The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 00:38:37 -

The feast was loud. It was too loud. You sat at the far end of the long oak table. The wood was rough. It bit into your knees. The air smelled of roasting pork and wet wool. It smelled of sweat. It smelled of fear. You were not afraid. You were cold. You were so cold it hurt. The fire in the hearth did not reach you. It never did. You were the shadow in the corner. You were the stain on the...

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