The Caretaker of Cavendish Manor
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. She had the same brown hair, same blackheads, same tired eyes looking back at me, but somehow I knew she was a fake. It was in the expression on her face, as if she was keeping a secret. I scoffed at her, spraying the antique mirror with some cleaning solution and wiping it with a cloth. The rest of the parlor’s furnishings were shrouded in dust covers. I thought it best to keep them covered and only use what was necessary.
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