The Golden Mirror
The brass trowel bit into the ledger’s spine, separating the pages with a dry rasp. You pressed the edge of the paper flat against the desk, your knuckles white, the light from the gas lamp above you flickering in a sudden draft. The clock on the mantel ticked, a mechanical pulse that seemed to slow as you stared at the brass mirror propped against the filing cabinet. In the glass, your...
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