The Engineer of Lost Feelings
The mirror in Blackwood Station had not been mounted by any hand Wren could account for. It arrived in the manner of so many things at the settlement -- quietly, inevitably, like the dust that crept up from the drylands each autumn and settled into the stone like a grievance. The glass was Venetian, or so the glazier at Whitby Colony had claimed when her grandfather sent him to London for it,...
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