The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 05:03:24 -

The ink is drying on the contract before you even see it. It sits on the counter of the old shop in the district, a slab of mahogany that has seen too many winters. The air smells of dust and varnish. Outside, the rain hammers against the glass, a relentless, deafening drumroll that vibrates in your teeth. You are not a man who signs things lightly. You have been a master restorer of antique...

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