The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-24 01:14:07 -

The glass in my left hand was cold, a jagged triangle of silver that did not reflect my face. I held it up to the dim light of the border town’s only café, watching the reflection of the empty chair behind me where I had just sat. My nose, my scarred cheek, the hollows under my eyes—none of it was there. Only the dust motes dancing in the slant of afternoon sun, and the back of the wooden...

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