Often, I would catch it in the mirror as I stepped out of the shower. A spectre, it floated as a black spot in my vision, as though it were something lodged in the corner of my eye and not, instead, nestled malignly below the skin. Against the white of the sheets it shocked me, like a puddle of blood marring the clean cotton. I would sneak glances at it, trace its uneven border with one outstretched finger, as if a child on the brink of discovery.
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