The Wistful Mirror
The cart wheels grind against the frost-hardened earth, a rhythmic, mechanical shriek that serves as the only metronome for your journey. You are Thomas, a clerk of the lower registry, a man whose life is defined by the precise alignment of ledgers and the quiet, grinding pressure of debt. You do not look forward. To look forward is to see the horizon, and the horizon here is a wall of grey...
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