The Golden Mirror
Chapter One Who was to say that a mirror was not a mouth? Ray Waggoner stood in the doorway of the study, his hand resting on the brass knob, and asked the question to the empty air, though the answer was already rotting in his throat. The light in the room was thin, a pale strip of afternoon sun cutting across the floorboards where the dust motes hung suspended like tiny, frozen flies. He was...
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