The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 09:45:20 -

The glass was not a window. It was a wall. Leo stood before it. His breath fogged the surface, a temporary cloud that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He was twelve years old. His hands were small and cold. They trembled. Not from the chill in the basement, but from the weight of what he held. A hammer. It was a heavy, iron thing. His father’s tool. It felt too big for his fingers. It...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews