The Golden Mirror
I "Did you really forge it, Kenji?" Shinji Hayashi asked the question into the wet air, the sound of the river having quit its usual low hum. He stood on the ferry crossing, the clay rattle of their dead niece still clutched in his fist, its rough surface grinding against his palm. The hail had flattened the barley fields on the far bank, turning the green into a bruised, matted gray. In his...
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