The Golden Mirror
I Ketil Odden sat in the driver’s seat of the idling taxi, the engine ticking like a cooling stove, and watched the ice on the fjord crack under the weight of the winter. He had bought the medallion high, a mistake that tasted of rust in his mouth, and now he waited for a fare that would not come. The smell of damp wool and old gasoline filled the cab, a scent that clung to the upholstery like...
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