The Faded Photograph
The mirror in the east wing did not lie, but it was slow to speak. I had noticed the lag first when I was dusting the shelf, a half-second delay between my hand and the hand in the glass, a ghostly stutter in my own reflection that I attributed to the low light and the fatigue of a long day. But by the time I found the ledger, the delay had grown to two full seconds, a distinct, chilling echo...
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