The Wistful Grid

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-19 17:07:56 -

The Wistful Grid

The frost had not yet lifted from the cobblestones when I began to bleed. It was a small cut. A scratch. A red thread pulled loose from the hem of my tunic. I stood before the mirror in the dressing room of the Grand Palace. The glass was old. It warped my face. It made my eyes look too wide. It made my mouth look too thin. I touched the spot on my cheek where the mirror had kissed me. Or...

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