The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 22:18:59 -

The lens lay in my palm, cold and round as a button, its surface fogged by the breath I held in my teeth. I stared at it until the glass blurred, a white haze that swallowed the detail of the workshop around me, the smell of hot sand and sulfur, the distant clatter of the anvil. I am Silas, forty-two years old, and my hands, which once could pull a thread of glass thinner than a spider’s silk,...

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