The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-20 14:12:27 -

The glass cracked. Not broke. Cracked. A web of white fractures bloomed across the center pane. I stared at it. The reflection stared back. It was my mother’s face. Or maybe mine. Hard to tell in the mirror. The light was bad. The light was always bad in the hospital. I was still holding the tray. Porcelain clinked. Coffee dripped. The sound was loud. Too loud. "Drop it, Clara," the nurse said....

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