The Wistful Mirror
The ledger is open. The ink is wet. You sign. The pen scratches. It sounds like a bone breaking. You look up. The clerk is smiling. His teeth are too white. They are not human teeth. They are pearls. "Welcome to the Gilded Age," he says. You nod. You feel heavy. Your coat is lead. Your boots are iron. This is not a metaphor. It is a fact. You are in the Factory. It is a place that exists...
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