The Wistful Mirror
The drive to Oakhaven took four hours and forty minutes. Elias counted the miles on the odometer, each click of the wheel a small, mechanical death. He was a linguistics professor, a man who cataloged the rules of language, but today he was only a man driving a rusted sedan with a heater that blew warm air for exactly three minutes before failing. He wanted to burn the box. That was the task....
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