The Last Sunflower

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2026-06-01 12:45:21 -

The mirror arrived in a wooden crate, wrapped in oilcloth and baled with twine. Arthur Harlowe stood in the doorway of our London flat, rain hammering against the windowpanes, and said, "Will you do this for me?" He placed the mirror on my table. It was an odd thing—two glass surfaces set in a single frame of dark oak. One side was ordinary mirror, silvered and bright. The other was polished...

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