The Wistful Mirror

ha aggiunto una foto Literature

2026-08-20 11:47:24 -

The iron breath of the furnace tasted of rust and old blood, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat as I swung the hammer. The sparks flew, not up, but down, like a rain of embers trapped in a jar. I was not striking the metal. I was striking the reflection. Every blow sent a shudder through the glass pane that stood before me, a perfect, cold mirror set into the soot-stained brick...

0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima