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82: D-Day 2

ALEXANDER

I was no different from a statue in my own home, dressed like a mannequin by the roadside for an activity that my entire body rejected. It wasn't funny at all.

The front of the mirror had been my home for longer than I can remember. It felt like the kind of hell I could taste on my tongue and it wouldn't discontinue.

Even right now, I was standing before a mirror. This morning the ball was colder than usual, a stark contrast to what I would be feeling if I cared a bit about whatever the hell was going on here.

Rather, I was tired of it. Way exhausted that a thousand sighs had slipped out of my mouth in just minutes.

I stood in front of the mirror, my personal stylist adjusting my navy blue suit. I

It was a classic, well-fitted outfit with a subtle sheen that should have made me feel confident. Should. It did the exact opposite of that.

The cufflinks, silver and detailed, were the finishing touch. Yet, I found myself distracted, barely noticing the stylist’s careful moveme
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