The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 02:03:33 -

You walk. The road is hard. The sky is grey. You are not home. You are not anywhere. Your hands shake. Look at them. They are your father’s hands. The knuckles are swollen. The skin is thin. Like parchment. Like old paper. You remember his hands. In the kitchen. Peeling potatoes. The smell of salt. The sound of the knife. Thud. Thud. Thud. You are an immigrant. You are a ghost. You crossed the...

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