The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 09:51:14 -

The gate was rusted shut, but you knew how to open it. You pressed your shoulder against the iron bars, feeling the cold seep into your coat. Inside, the fog waited. It was thick, gray, and smelled of ozone and old blood. You held the mirror in your left hand. It was your mother’s. It did not show your face. It showed hers. Young. Beautiful. Sad. You needed to get to your father. The debt...

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