The Wistful Mirror
The ink was moving again, Elias, and if you do not stop staring at it as though it owes you an explanation, I will have you removed from the premises before the end of the shift. Dr. Aris stood in the doorway of the sub-basement archive, his arms crossed over a chest that was holding its breath, while the fluorescent lights above hummed with a low, electric fatigue that had become the only...
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