The Glass Solitude

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2026-06-05 00:16:36 -

The fog in London did not merely drift; it possessed the city, a grey, suffocating shroud that tasted of coal smoke and old regrets. Arthur lived in the marrow of this gloom, a clockmaker whose shop was a sanctuary of ticking hearts and brass gears. He was a man of precise movements and silent hopes, until the day he found the Mirror. It had arrived in a crate of mahogany ruins from a bankrupt...

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