The Golden Harbor
The ice cracked. Not the thin skin of a pond. The deep, dark water of the harbor. It split with a sound like a bone breaking. I heard it from the balcony. I was holding a glass of wine. The wine was red. It looked like blood. The feast was loud. They laughed. They clinked glasses. They did not hear the water break. I did not care about the water. I cared about the mirror. The mirror stood in...
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