The Wistful Mirror
The first thing I noticed was not the cold, which was a dull, persistent ache in the marrow, but the absence of my own reflection in the glass, a hollow space where my face should have been, staring back at me with the indifference of a deep well. I am Elara, and this is the first day of our separation, though Julian is still in the bed beside me, his chest heaving with the wet, rattling breath...
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