The Golden Cellar
The cellar door is heavy. It smells of damp stone and old wine. You stand on the top step, looking down into the dark. The light from the kitchen above does not reach the bottom. It stops at your feet. You are leaving. Your husband, Thomas, is in the parlor. He is drinking tea. He is waiting for you to say goodbye. You have not said goodbye. You cannot. You look at the cellar. It is a mirror....
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