The Wistful Mirror
The hand in the mirror moved before Elias did. He watched his own fingers twitch in the glass, a ghostly anticipation that preceded his physical action by a heartbeat. He froze. The reflection froze too, but for a second longer. Elias pulled his hand back. The hand in the glass lingered, hovering in the air where his fingers had been, before slowly retracting. The air in the workshop was stale,...
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