Author: Ingrid Nyborg | Date: Unknown
The painting in the town hall changed again. The Empress of Jade. They say it was donated by a collector, but no one remembers who.
She wears a crown of broken porcelain. Her mascara bleeds into the sea behind her.
Every week, more faces appear around her throne—children, burned faintly into the jade.
I saw my own face last night. A younger me. Crying into a crown I never wore.
She watches me now in mirrors. But never blinks.