The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 11:26:11 -

Forty-two of the Ferry Slip was the last place on the island where the rain did not find a way in, which is why the smell of wet wool and rusted iron hung so heavy in the air, thick enough to taste on the back of the teeth. I stood at the edge of the platform, my hands wrapped around the cold brass of my father’s pocket watch, the glass face cracked down the center like a frozen lake, the hands...

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