The Perfect Reflection
The mirror arrived on a Tuesday, wrapped in burlap and tied with twine so old it had turned the color of weak tea. Silas Vane unwrapped it in his Mayfair townhouse, in the room he kept for visitors who impressed him—which was not often, since Silas found most people dull, and he had little patience for dullness in any form. The mirror was Chinese. Not merely made in China, but profoundly,...
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