The Wistful Mirror

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-18 07:48:43 -

The table was a long, scarred thing of oak, set with pewter plates that had lost their shine decades ago. We were crowded around it. Soldiers. Men with dirt under their fingernails and ghosts in their eyes. The air smelled of wet wool, stale beer, and the metallic tang of fear. I sat at the head, though I was the lowest rank present. A lieutenant. A nobody. But my son was there. Thomas. He was...

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