The Golden Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 00:34:58 -

The Golden Mirror

The rain had stopped, but the mud remained. It clung to my boots, a heavy, brown paste that smelled of turned earth and old decay. I walked the ridge. The wind cut through my coat. I was cold. I had been cold for three days. My name is Miller. I served twenty years in the Corps. Now I am a private investigator. It is a job for men who are good at looking, but not good at touching. I was looking...

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