The Golden Mirror
October 14. The rain hammers the corrugated roof of the warehouse, a rhythmic assault that vibrates through the soles of your boots. You are kneeling in the mud, your left hand pressed flat against the wet concrete, feeling the cold, jagged intrusion beneath the skin of your palm. It is a shard of mirror, no larger than a fingernail, yet it cuts deeper than any steel. You have felt it for three...
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