Bailey Kuskoski

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It stares back, startled, but unhurt, so she leans closer, till the tip of her nose touches the mirror, close enough for her breath to fog the glass. But it doesn’t. And that is how Alice learns she isn’t breathing. She reels back from the mirror, as if she’s seen a ghost. Her hands go to her mouth, a preemptive gesture, in case there is a scream, but nothing comes out.
Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil
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