The Golden Mirror
He dreamed of the mirror. It hung on a wall of black wood. The glass was gold. Not yellow. Gold. It drank the light. He woke with his breath shallow. The room was cold. Rain tapped on the window. A soft, persistent drumming. Thomas lay still. He did not move. He listened to the rain. He remembered the dream. He remembered the gold. It was not a reflection. It was a weight. He sat up. The...
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