The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 05:25:44 -

The frost clung to the windowpane. It was a thin, crystalline web. I pressed my thumb against the glass. The cold bit through the wool. I was leaving. The carriage waited outside. The wheels groaned on the cobblestone. I looked back at the house. It stood silent under the grey sky. My brother stood in the doorway. He did not wave. He held a jar. It was glass. Inside, something moved. A small,...

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