The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 13:42:02 -

The old man looked at me with eyes like wet stones. He did not blink. He stood in the center of the hall, his hands hanging loose at his sides. The air was thick with dust and the scent of wet wool. I had come to return the silver. I had come to end it. My name is Elias. I was born here, in this house, but I left before the winter. I left because the mirror was looking at me wrong. I have been...

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