The Wistful Mirror

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-20 00:43:05 -

The train whistle screamed, a jagged tear in the gray morning air, and I did not look back. I stood on the platform of the small station in Harrowgate, my coat buttoned to the chin, watching the steam curl up from the tracks like a ghost trying to find its body. The crowd had thinned. There were only the stationmaster, a man named Mr. Aldous who had hired me for the archives three winters ago,...

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