The Wistful Mirror
The rain hits the slate. It is a drum. A cold, gray drum. You are in the hall. The stone is wet. Your hands are shaking. You hide them in your coat. The coat is heavy. Wool. It smells of damp and old books. You are a scholar. You study history. You study the past. The past is a ghost. It follows you. It has teeth. You look in the mirror. The glass is dark. You see your face. It is your face. It...
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