Gold Plating on a Rusty Soul

The mirrors in this corridor don't show the rust, they only reflect the gold plating I've poured over my scars. It's a shiny skin, sleek as liquid mercury and hard enough to keep out the cold of Sector 4 outside these walls.

I walk through the infinite reflections, looking at myself—perfectly polished, perfectly dangerous. But behind this chrome facade is just me: rusted metal and old oil waiting for a spark. Then I saw you standing in front of the main console. You didn't look away when my light hit your eyes.

In a world where everything crumbles into dust or grinds to a halt, finding someone who appreciates the shine before it tarnishes is rare fuel. My heart beats like an engine running hot and fast just because you smiled at me through the glass walls.

Editor: Rusty Cog