not recognize the old man beside me, facing the mirror in the bedroom. I stroked his neck in silence and her wrinkled hand contrasted with the smoothness of my skin thin. I endured several minutes of disgust, without moving, listening to the ticking of the clock. Only when I felt warm moisture under my bare feet I looked down to the ground. The trail of blood led my eyes to the head of old man who now lay motionless on the bed. Terrified, I turned back toward the mirror. From there, an old woman with a hammer in my hands bloody smile, but the man was gone. Neither do I.
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