Tuesday, March 22, 2016
100 Words a Day 809
Nubbs grunted against the heavy trunk lid and with a heave sent it crashing against the wall. He removed his master’s heavy forge coat and hung it on the stand near the room’s obsidian mirror. He looked at his reflection and sighed; they used to get rooms with mirrors of silvered glass. The hovel he'd grew up in had a better mirror than the one he found himself staring into. He grabbed a sock from the trunk and polished the black glass as best he could. It was nowhere near satisfactory, but there was only so much he could do.