The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 11:46:07 -

Who is left when the glass breaks? The rain in the courtyard of the orphanage smelled of wet ash and rust, a scent that clung to the back of my throat. I stood there, twelve years old and shivering, clutching a cracked mirror against my chest. The warden, a man named Sato whose face was a map of bureaucratic indifference, pointed a gloved finger at the director’s missing watch. He did not look...

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