The Golden Mirror
The mirror was gone. You stood in the empty room. Dust motes drifted in the shaft of pale afternoon light. The glass that had once reflected your face, your hair, the specific exhaustion in your eyes, was no longer there. Only the silver frame remained. It hung crooked on the wall. You touched the wall behind it. The plaster was cold. It felt like a wound that had not yet healed. You were...
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