The Wistful Mirror
The silence in the study was not an absence of sound but a heavy, physical substance, a thick velvet curtain that had been drawn across the mouth of the world, and within that suffocating quiet, Arthur Penhaligon sat hunched over his desk, the wood grain under his fingertips feeling like the dried, cracked earth of a forgotten ploughland, while the rain outside lashed against the leaded glass...
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