The Wistful Mirror
Maggie stood at the center of the ballroom, a vast and breathing cavern of white marble and crystal chandeliers that hummed with the low, electric thrum of a thousand simultaneous conversations, her eyes fixed not on the dancers swirling in their satin and silk but on the towering mirror that dominated the far wall, a monolithic slab of polished glass framed in gilded oak that seemed to suck...
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