The Golden Mirror
The fog came in from the coast. It swallowed the harbor. It swallowed the lighthouse. It swallowed Elias. He stood at the water’s edge. His boots were wet. The cold bit. He held the mirror. It was gold. It was heavy. It was alive. Elias was a cartographer. He mapped the world. He mapped the impossible. He had left London. He had left his wife. He had left his name behind. He was a ghost in a...
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