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The Mirror
I woke up to hear knocking on glass. At first, I thought it was the window until I heard it come from the mirror again. My insides were screaming to retreat back under the covers, to hold my breath, but the child in me couldn’t resist such burning curiosity. Still deathly afraid, I gazed around the pitch black room with my eyes wide open in hopes of catching a glimpse of my midnight intruder without having to turn on the light. After patting around the room for a moment I finally found the lamp switch, and with a flick of a finger the room illuminated. As light flooded my vision in an effort to comfort me, like a warm bath, my strained eyes darted immediately to the mirror, and there they met the looming, dark figure -- Donald Trump.
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