The Wistful Mirror
The notice, stamped in the bureaucratic red of the municipal office, read: EVICTION PENDING. 30 DAYS. Henryk Pawlak held the paper until the edges softened against his thumb, the ink bleeding slightly into the dry skin of his palm. He was thirty-two, an archivist by trade, a triage clerk by necessity, and he stood in the hallway of his walk-up apartment on the Amber Stair, unit one hundred and...
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