The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-20 20:41:05 -

The train hissed into the station of Blackwood with a sound like a dying animal, and I stepped down onto the platform with the distinct, heavy sensation of a man who had already lost the war before the first shot was fired. It was a gray, weeping morning, the kind that soaks into the marrow and stays there, and the air tasted of coal smoke and wet iron, a flavor I had carried in my mouth for...

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