The Distant Wound
The mirror in the hallway is cracked. Not broken, not shattered into a constellation of shards, but fractured. A single, jagged line runs from the top left corner to the bottom right, splitting your reflection into two halves that do not align. You look into it. Your left eye looks left. Your right eye looks right. You are a man made of two different people. You live in the Ward. The air here...
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