The Golden Mirror
I woke with the taste of copper and old honey on my tongue, a flavor that had no business belonging to the sterile, white-tiled walls of the infirmary, yet it clung to the back of my throat like a second skin, dense and sweet and undeniably real, as though the air itself had been steeped in the residue of a meal I could not quite recall eating. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic,...
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