The Golden Cellar
The mirror is cracked. It has been cracked for three days. You keep it in the cellar. Not the wine cellar. The root cellar. The one where the air tastes of damp earth and old iron. You are a scholar of textiles. You know the weave. You know the thread. You know the history of the fabric. But you do not know the history of the glass. It is a small mirror. A hand mirror. The handle is bone. The...
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