The Wistful Skyline
You are holding the bird. It is not a real bird, of course, but a small, intricate thing of brass and stained glass, no larger than your palm, and it is heavy with a weight that has nothing to do with physics. You have held it for three days now, since the morning it appeared on the desk in the antechamber of the High Court of Appeals. It is your mirror, you realize, though it does not show...
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