The Golden Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 18:07:35 -

The Golden Mirror

The rain tasted of iron. I could taste it on my tongue as I stepped off the train. It was a bad omen. Or perhaps just a fact. My boots were wet. My hands were cold. I held the briefcase tight. Inside was the evidence. Inside was the proof. They wanted me to give it up. They wanted me to forget. I walked into the station. The air was thick. Steam rose from the vents. People moved like ghosts. No...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews