The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 21:46:45 -

Act I I remember the weight of the glass before I remember the cold. It sat on the table in the back room of the signal shack, humming like a trapped wasp, its surface a dull, oily gray that absorbed the kerosene light. I was twelve, Rashid Darwish, a scribe’s apprentice in a city that smelled of wet wool and rust, and I wanted to see my future to escape the poverty that clung to my clothes...

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