The Golden Visit
The cell was cold. The light was blue. My left hand was missing. I looked at the stump. It bled. The blood was black. It smelled of iron and ozone. I am a corporal. I know what a wound looks like. This was not a wound. This was an absence. The mirror hung on the wall. It was cracked. A spiderweb fracture ran from the top left corner to the bottom right. I stared at it. My face stared back. My...
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