The Golden Greenhouse
I look back now from the empty kitchen, forty-two of the Amber Stair behind me, and I see the light that day, thick and yellow, slanting through the horn panes of the lantern I kept by the door. It was the light that killed the mirror. My name is Milena Karapetyan, and I was a glassblower before I was a cook, before I was a wife, before I was a woman with legs that did not work. I wanted to...
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