What on Earth do you do with a magic mirror?
Ellie Jones turned the thing over and over in her hand, in some confusion. It was silver, and it had handle, but the size was like those stupid hand mirrors that women used to carry in their purses back when “I need to go powder my nose” was a thing.
The silver was tarnished and the elaborate scroll work on back and handle spoke of something very old. Not that Ellie was an expert. She was an accountant, not an art major. But it seemed to her this was older than most “antiques” she’d come across which were, at most, Victorian. And they looked subtly alien, like nothing she’d ever run across before.
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