The Golden Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:43:16 -

The Golden Mirror

The fern was dead. Not withering, but dead. Its fronds curled inward like fists, brittle and black, trapped in the terracotta pot on the windowsill. I had brought it home from the garden center three days ago. It was lush then, a deep, violent green. Now it was a skeletal thing. A relic. "You’re killing it," said Elias. He sat across from me in the diner, his coffee untouched. Steam curled off...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews