The Golden Mirror
In the dream, the mirror is gold, not silver, and it does not reflect your face but the room behind you. It hangs above a fireplace in a house you do not recognize, the stone worn smooth by centuries of soot. You stand before it, waiting for the glass to shatter, for the lie to break the surface. It does not. The glass remains whole, a perfect, unbroken circle of molten light. You wake with the...
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