The Faded Paradox
14th October, 1912 The porcelain is cold, Elara, and it is the only thing in this world that does not lie to me. I hold "The Mirror" in my hands, the shattered face of the doll pressed against my chest, and I can feel the weight of your absence in the cracks. Three years you have been gone, Clara, and three years I have listened to the whisper that rises from the ceramic shards, a voice that is...
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