The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 05:06:13 -

The mud sucked at my boots with a wet, hungry sound. It was the sound of the earth drinking. I stood in the center of the factory floor, the air thick with the scent of rust and old sweat. Around me, the machinery hummed a low, dying note. It was not a song. It was a complaint. I had been here for three days. I had not slept. My hands shook, but I kept them still. I had to be still. Stillness...

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