The Golden Mirror
The hammer struck the final rivet with a dull, sickening thud that seemed to vibrate through the soles of Elias’s boots and settle deep in his marrow, and as the brass pin flew out of the corner of the frame, the workshop, which had smelled of turpentine and old dust for the last three years, suddenly inhaled a scent of ozone and burnt honey, and the Golden Mirror, which he had spent three...
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