The Wistful Mirror
You remember the weight of the iron gates as they shudder behind you, a sound like the breaking of a spine, sealing you off from the gray, rain-slicked world of the city where you spent your days in the shadow of the great stone pillars, counting the ledgers, keeping the peace with your silence. The air here is thick, not with the smog of industry or the dust of the streets, but with a heavy,...
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