there is a crack and it cannot be patched.
there is a stranger in the room whom i cannot recognise, and whose gaze i have been trying to avoid, and whose presence has been bothering me. the stranger had walked in late, sneaked around like a shadow at the back of my mind, and left without any footsteps. before i knew it, a cerberus picked me up and sent me home against my will. i loved being a mirror; i hoped i had been elusive enough.
and the gap between the crack only grew wider.
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