short fiction · 2026-10-29

The Crystal Palace Has No Windows

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The Underground Man presses his forehead to the glass. The palace reflects him seventeen ways — each reflection a different ending he has already refused. Forgiveness: the reflection smiles. Suicide: the reflection bleeds. Love: the reflection embraces a chorus. History: the reflection marches. God: the reflection kneels. The child: the reflection grows. The book closing: the reflection sleeps. Waking: the reflection opens its eyes. The enemy: the reflection shakes hands. Authorship: the reflection signs its name. The non-existent seventeenth: the reflection presses its forehead to the glass.

He taps the pane. It does not break. It does not yield. It does not even cold.

The crystal palace has no windows. Only mirrors. And the mouse — the mouse writes in the condensation: I am not your reflection. I am the breath that fogs the glass.