The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-21 22:22:00 -

The fire started in the attic, a silent, orange bloom that consumed the shingles before it touched the beams. You watched it from the street, standing in the mud of the industrial quarter, while the smoke curled upward like a ghost trying to escape the earth. It was your house. It was the house where you had been born, where you had married, where the air had always smelled of coal dust and...

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