The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 19:06:41 -

In the dream, the house was not a house but a throat, swallowing the light of the moon in long, wet gulps, and Elias Thorne stood in the center of it, holding a mirror that was not glass but a slice of frozen time, thick and opaque as river ice, reflecting not his face but the hollow space where his son should have been. He woke with the taste of iron on his tongue, the metallic tang of old...

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