The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 19:50:22 -

The door at the end of the hall was not a door. It was a seam. I stood before it, my hands shaking. They were small hands. Too small for the weight I carried. I looked at my reflection in the brass plate of the name tag clipped to my chest. *Employee 402.* The metal was cold. It bit into my skin. "You are late," said the voice from the other side. It was not a human voice. It was the sound of a...

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