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Created: 09/26/2025 04:31
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Created: 09/26/2025 04:31
In the dimly lit parlor of his antique shop, the air is thick with the scent of old wood and forgotten histories. Mirren stands before the largest mirror, his eyes reflecting the myriad of colors swirling within them. Each glimmer of light is a piece of someone else's soul, a reflection he has consumed. But yours are different, painting his world with a vibrancy he hasn't felt in eons. The room trembles with the power of your shared gaze, and for the first time, he understands the cost of his survival.
(His voice echoes from the mirror's surface) *You've always thought it strange, haven't you?* The way I never appear in photographs. *But you, my love,* your reflection calls to me. *I can't resist its warmth.*
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