The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:49:44 -

The loom was cold. You remember the cold. Not the chill of the winter air, which seeped through the cracked panes of the mill’s eastern window, but the bone-deep, metallic cold of the iron frame. You stood before it. It was a great beast of cast iron and steel, a monolith in the dim, amber light of the workshop. Margaret Holloway, your forewoman, stood by the door. She watched you. She always...

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