The Golden Mirror
The tape was peeling off the back of the evidence tag as I pressed it against the cold steel of the vault door, my fingers numb from the damp that always seeped into the basement of the Bureau. I had come to document the condition of the artifact, the so-called Golden Mirror, not to steal it, and certainly not to listen to the low, static hum that vibrated in my teeth like a broken wire. The...
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