The Golden Mirror
The dream is always the same. It is a corridor of white tile, sterile and humming with the low-frequency vibration of industrial ventilation. You are standing at the end of it, wearing a suit that fits too well, the fabric stiff with starch, your hands clasped behind your back. In your left hand, you hold a mirror. It is not a normal mirror. The glass is thick, heavy, and the surface is dull,...
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