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Written for HT100 Challenge #94: Mirror Image


by Ralu

At times, he looks in the mirror and it's like it never happened. He's back home; she's still alive. His boys... They're ALL alive.

He can run his fingers across his forehead and ignore the wrinkles, cross his arms over his chest and make the numbers on his shirt fade away. He can smile and not see the smirking clown of deceivement painting crocodile tears across his cheeks, spitting him in the face when he least expects it.

He can close his eyes and dream Technicolor dreams. All the colors stripped away from him by this place, by its people.

*His* people.

How he's wasted everything.

At times, he can even feel it. What used to be. What he gave nine years of his life for.

And the scar on his eye disappears. If only for a moment.
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