Inventory Number Forty-Seven

The mirror arrived wrapped in sea-blue linen and a warning nobody had bothered to sign.

Lina set it on the archive table, recorded the crack branching through the glass, and watched the room behind her change.

Shelves vanished. The ceiling darkened. A woman stood in the doorway of a library that had burned ninety years before and asked Lina why she had waited so long to answer.