The Wistful Mirror
Act I Colm Sheehy, thirty-four, owed the temple granary three months’ rent, a debt that weighed heavier than the mule dying in the stable behind the parish hall. I had come to the Burren not for the stone country, which looked like an escarpment of wind farms in the grey light, but for the ledger in Daan’s office. The firm called it embezzlement; I called it a mirror, because every time I...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews