The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 07:31:11 -

Chapter One The smell of wet tin and stale bread hung in the air of the granary, thick enough to choke a man. I sat at the desk, the bone comb in my hand, its teeth missing where they had snapped against the wood. Outside, the January thaw tricked the orchards into budding early, a false promise that the cold would not return. I was thirty-four years old, a warden of the border, and I wanted...

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