The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 21:37:41 -

The rain in London did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey, suspended judgment that turned the cobblestones of Whitechapel into a mirror of bruised glass. I stood beneath the eaves of a shuttered tailor’s shop, my collar turned up against a chill that seemed to seep not from the air, but from the marrow of my bones. The city was a beast that had been skinned and stuffed, its heart...

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