Shadow of the Past

When I looked in the mirror, I saw a face plagued by forgotten tragedies, a face that held answers to questions I didn't know how to ask.

The remnants of that dreadful day were like shards of a shattered mirror, each shard revealing a piece of the truth I couldn't fathom.

It seemed as if the fabric of reality itself had ripped, leaving me alone in a world of half-truths and shadows.

Naomi Jang's face appeared out of nowhere in my thoughts, a specter of sadness and loss. I knew she was significant, like a missing puzzle piece, but her importance remained tantalizingly out of grasp. I should have found Naomi; perhaps she had the answer to the missing gap in my mind.

Samuel's death hovered over him as well. His absence rang in my heart, and suddenly, amid this darkness, I felt a connection I couldn't deny.

Above me the fluorescent lights in the mortuary hummed, throwing an unsettling glare over Jane Doe's body. Her pale skin seemed to be hiding something, her dead eyes communicating secr