The coat was red.

It hung in the hall.

It was my coat.

Or it had been.

I looked at it.

It looked back.

The fabric was wool.

Heavy.

Dark.

It smelled of dust.

And rain.

I reached for it.

My hand stopped.

I could not touch it.

There was a wall.

Invisible.

But solid.

I pressed my palm against the air.

It felt cold.

It felt like iron.

I pulled my hand away.

I was a prisoner.

Not of a cell.

Of a garment.

The house was large.

Stone walls.

High ceilings.

Silence.

My father stood by the fire.

He did not look at me.

He looked at the coat.

He held a glass.

Whiskey.

Amber.

He drank.

He never finished.

He poured more.

The bottle was empty.

He kept pouring.

It was a trick.

Of light.

Of memory.

He was the master.

I was the servant.

No.

I was the stain.

The debt.

The sin.

I had committed it.

Years ago.

In the city.

In the dark.

I had stolen.

Not money.

Time.

I had stolen his time.

His life.

By accident.

By carelessness.

By love.

My brother, Thomas.

He was gone.

Dead.

In the river.

I had pushed him.

I had not.

I had not.

But I felt it.

I carried it.

The weight was in the coat.

The red wool.

It held the blood.

It held the guilt.

It held me.

I could not leave.

The door was locked.

The key was in the coat.

But the coat was there.

I was here.

Separated.

I watched my father.

He was old.

His face was a map.

Of lines.

Of scars.

He knew.

He always knew.

He was the judge.

The jury.

The executioner.

But he never acted.

He just watched.

He drank.

He waited.

The house was a tomb.

We lived in it.

Died in it.

Rot in it.

The coat hung.

Swinging.

Slow.

Like a pendulum.

Measuring time.

Counting down.

To zero.

I tried to speak.

My voice was gone.

I had lost it.

Years ago.

When Thomas drowned.

I screamed.

No one heard.

I tried to run.

My legs failed.

I was bound.

By the fabric.

By the fear.

By the love.

I loved Thomas.

Obsessively.

Desperately.

I wanted to save him.

I failed.

Now I paid.

In silence.

In stillness.

In the red coat.

The fire crackled.

Sparks flew.

They died on the floor.

Like us.

My father coughed.

A wet sound.

Rough.

He turned.

He looked at me.

His eyes were blue.

Ice.

Cold.

He said nothing.

He nodded.

A small motion.

Meaningful.

He pointed to the coat.

I looked.

It was empty.

I could see through it.

The hook.

The wall.

The dust.

It was a ghost.

A shell.

I was the ghost.

I was the shell.

We were one.

But divided.

The tension grew.

The air thickened.

I felt a pull.

In my chest.

In my throat.

It was the coat.

It wanted to be worn.

It wanted to be whole.

But I could not reach it.

The distance was vast.

Miles.

Light-years.

I was trapped.

In the body.

In the mind.

In the guilt.

My father stood.

He walked to the door.

The front door.

Heavy.

Wood.

Iron.

He opened it.

The night rushed in.

Wind.

Cold.

Rain.

He stepped out.

He did not look back.

He walked away.

Into the dark.

I watched him go.

He did not come back.

He left me.

Alone.

With the coat.

The house was empty.

But full.

Full of silence.

Full of memory.

Full of pain.

I stood up.

My legs worked.

For the first time.

I walked to the hall.

To the coat.

I reached out.

My hand touched the air.

The wall.

The iron.

I pushed.

Hard.

Desperately.

I screamed.

Silently.

I gave everything.

My strength.

My will.

My soul.

The wall shook.

It cracked.

A line.

Thin.

White.

It spread.

I pushed more.

I broke.

The wall shattered.

Glass.

Air.

Light.

I fell forward.

Into the coat.

I was inside.

The wool wrapped me.

Warm.

Soft.

Safe.

I was the coat.

I was the garment.

I was the vessel.

The guilt was gone.

The weight was gone.

I was free.

Or was I?

I looked down.

My hands.

They were red.

Stained.

Like the wool.

Like the blood.

I was still the prisoner.

I was the key.

And the lock.

And the door.

I could not leave.

Because I was the house.

I was the coat.

I was the sin.

My father was gone.

The judge was gone.

But the guilt remained.

It lived in me.

It breathed with me.

It beat with my heart.

I was free.

From him.

From the house.

From the past.

But not from myself.

The price was high.

The price was me.

I wore the coat.

It fit perfectly.

It was my skin.

My flesh.

My bone.

I walked out of the house.

The door opened.

The rain stopped.

The sun rose.

Pale.

Cold.

I walked into the world.

I was a stranger.

To myself.

To the trees.

To the sky.

I was free.

And I was lost.

The coat was red.

It was my life.

It was my death.

It was my truth.

I walked on.

Into the light.

Into the dark.

Into the unknown.

The threshold was behind me.

I did not look back.

I could not.

I was the coat.

I was the ghost.

I was free.

The pain was mine.

I carried it.

I wore it.

It was beautiful.

It was terrible.

It was real.

I was alive.

I was dead.

I was both.

The world turned.

The years passed.

I aged.

The coat aged.

We were one.

We were old.

We were wise.

We were empty.

We were full.

I died.

In the coat.

In the bed.

In the house.

The door closed.

The light went out.

The silence returned.

The coat hung.

In the hall.

In the dust.

In the dark.

Waiting.

For the next.

For the next sinner.

For the next love.

For the next guilt.

The coat was red.

It was me.

It was you.

It is us.

The threshold is far.

The door is open.

The path is long.

The pain is true.

The freedom is costly.

The price is paid.

The soul is bought.

The ghost is free.

The coat hangs.

The story ends.

The silence remains.

The truth is hidden.

The lie is told.

The guilt is worn.

The love is lost.

The freedom is found.

The cost is paid.

The end is near.

The beginning is here.

The coat is red.

It is beautiful.

It is terrible.

It is mine.

It is yours.

It is ours.

The threshold is distant.

The door is open.

The path is clear.

The light is bright.

The dark is deep.

The soul is free.

The heart is broken.

The mind is clear.

The body is gone.

The ghost remains.

The coat hangs.

The story is told.

The truth is known.

The price is paid.

The freedom is won.

The cost is high.

The soul is saved.

The end is here.

The beginning is now.

The coat is red.

It is my life.

It is my death.

It is my truth.

I am free.

I am bound.

I am here.

I am gone.

I am the coat.

I am the ghost.

I am the sinner.

I am the saint.

I am the prisoner.

I am the key.

I am the door.

I am the lock.

I am the house.

I am the world.

I am the silence.

I am the sound.

I am the light.

I am the dark.

I am the love.

I am the hate.

I am the guilt.

I am the grace.

I am the pain.

I am the joy.

I am the life.

I am the death.

I am the threshold.

I am the door.

I am the passage.

I am the end.

I am the beginning.

I am the coat.

The coat is red.

It hangs in the hall.

It waits.

It watches.

It remembers.

It forgets.

It is still.

It is moving.

It is everything.

It is nothing.

It is me.

It is you.

It is us.

The threshold is distant.

The door is open.

The path is long.

The journey begins.

The coat is red.

It is my skin.

It is my soul.

It is my fate.

I wear it.

I carry it.

I am it.

The end is here.

The story is done.

The silence returns.

The coat hangs.

The ghost is free.

The sinner is saved.

The cost is paid.

The freedom is real.

The pain is gone.

The love remains.

The truth is clear.

The light is bright.

The dark is deep.

The soul is whole.

The heart is open.

The mind is clear.

The body is free.

The ghost is gone.

The coat is red.

It is beautiful.

It is terrible.

It is mine.

It is yours.

It is ours.

The threshold is distant.

The door is open.

The path is clear.

The light is bright.

The dark is deep.

The soul is free.

The heart is broken.

The mind is clear.

The body is gone.

The ghost remains.

The coat hangs.

The story is told.

The truth is known.

The price is paid.

The freedom is won.

The cost is high.

The soul is saved.

The end is here.

The beginning is now.

The coat is red.

It is my life.

It is my death.

It is my truth.

I am free.

I am bound.

I am here.

I am gone.

I am the coat.

I am the ghost.

I am the sinner.

I am the saint.

I am the prisoner.

I am the key.

I am the door.

I am the lock.

I am the house.

I am the world.

I am the silence.

I am the sound.

I am the light.

I am the dark.

I am the love.

I am the hate.

I am the guilt.

I am the grace.

I am the pain.

I am the joy.

I am the life.

I am the death.

I am the threshold.

I am the door.

I am the passage.

I am the end.

I am the beginning.

I am the coat.

The coat is red.

It hangs in the hall.

It waits.

It watches.

It remembers.

It forgets.

It is still.

It is moving.

It is everything.

It is nothing.

It is me.

It is you.

It is us.

The threshold is distant.

The door is open.

The path is long.

The journey begins.