The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-24 11:53:05 -

I counted the hours before I counted the coins. Fourteen days had passed since my uncle’s funeral, and the autumn wind had stripped the linden trees in the courtyard bare, leaving the skeletal branches to scratch against the windowpanes of the library. I was forty-two years old, a scholar of modest renown, and I stood in the center of the room with a ledger in one hand and a scale in the other,...

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