The Mirror of Lost Souls
The mirror in the Hartman penthouse was tall and ornate, its frame carved with symbols that David did not recognise. It stood in the corner of his study, facing the window, and every time he passed it he felt a strange urge to look at his reflection. Not the normal kind of urge—the kind that makes you check your hair before a meeting or straighten your tie before a date. This was different....
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