The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 04:00:58 -

The fire took the roof at dawn. I watched it eat the timber. It was a hungry thing, bright and orange. It did not care for my rank. It did not care for my name. I stood on the porch. The heat hit my face. It felt like a blow. My uniform was damp with sweat. The wool clung to my skin. It smelled of smoke and fear. Inside, the house was dying. I thought of the bread. The sourdough starter sat on...

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