The boy who had laughed.
Who had felt.
Who had been whole.
And as he looked into the mirror, he realized something that came far too late to change his fate, but not too late to change his understanding.
He had never truly been hollow.
Just lost.
When it was over, the mirror slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
It did not shatter.
It simply lay there, reflecting the empty chair, the quiet room, and the people who would carry this moment with them long after they left.
The guard who had brought it stood still for a long time, staring at it.
Then, slowly, he bent down and picked it up.
For a brief second, he caught his own reflection.
And for reasons he could not quite explain, he held it there—just a moment longer than necessary—before turning away.
