The coat is red.

You know it is red.

It hangs on the hook.

It smells of coal.

It smells of wet wool.

It smells of you.

You stare at it.

The room is small.

The room is cold.

The gas light hisses.

It is a thin, high sound.

It sounds like a warning.

You are a sergeant.

You are a man of law.

You are a man of order.

You have kept the peace.

You have kept the peace for twenty years.

Your name is Elias.

Elias Thorne.

You are here to report a breach.

The breach is in the house.

The breach is in the mind.

The mind is a closed room.

The door is locked.

You are the key.

But the key is rusted.

You try to turn it.

It sticks.

It hurts.

You remember the court.

The judge was old.

His eyes were white.

Like milk.

Like fog.

He said the law is just.

He said the law is blind.

But the law has hands.

The hands are your hands.

You have killed men.

You have arrested men.

You have done what was right.

You have done what was necessary.

But the weight remains.

The weight is in the chest.

It is a stone.

It is a coal.

It burns.

It does not fade.

It grows.

You look at the coat again.

It is bright.

It is too bright.

It is a scream.

You hate it.

You hate it because it is clean.

You hate it because it is soft.

You hate it because it is yours.

You bought it for her.

For Clara.

Clara is gone.

Clara is dead.

Clara is in the earth.

Clara is in the dark.

Clara is in the silence.

You remember her laugh.

It was loud.

It was sharp.

It cut the air.

It cut the fog.

It was a blade.

You loved the blade.

You loved the cut.

You loved the pain.

It was real.

It was true.

The other things were false.

The law was false.

The duty was false.

The honor was false.

Only the pain was real.

Only the loss was real.

You stand up.

The floor creaks.

The gas light flickers.

The shadow stretches.

The shadow is long.

The shadow is thin.

The shadow is you.

You pick up the coat.

The wool is warm.

It is too warm.

It is alive.

It breathes.

It has no lungs.

It has no heart.

It has only the memory of heat.

You put it on.

The fabric touches your skin.

It is rough.

It is coarse.

It feels like sand.

It feels like blood.

You feel the weight.

The weight is heavy.

The weight is crushing.

You feel the heat.

The heat is rising.

It rises from the collar.

It rises from the sleeves.

It rises from the hem.

It surrounds you.

It engulfs you.

You are inside the coat.

You are inside the red.

You are inside the fire.

The room shrinks.

The walls close in.

The ceiling lowers.

The floor drops.

You are in a box.

You are in a coffin.

The red is the lid.

The red is the stone.

You try to breathe.

The air is thick.

The air is heavy.

The air is sweet.

It smells of roses.

It smells of rot.

It smells of Clara.

You hear a sound.

It is a knock.

It is a soft knock.

It is a gentle knock.

It comes from the door.

It comes from the window.

It comes from the wall.

It comes from within.

You do not move.

You do not speak.

You do not blink.

The knocking stops.

The silence returns.

The silence is loud.

The silence is sharp.

The silence is a knife.

It cuts your throat.

It cuts your heart.

It cuts your soul.

You are alone.

You have always been alone.

The law does not care.

The law does not see.

The law does not feel.

The law is empty.

The law is a shell.

You are the shell.

You are the empty thing.

You are the nothing.

The coat is tight.

The coat is tight around the neck.

It is a noose.

It is a bond.

It is a chain.

You pull at it.

You tug at it.

You tear at it.

The wool resists.

The wool holds.

The wool binds.

You cannot escape.

You cannot break free.

You cannot open the door.

You are trapped.

You are trapped in the red.

You are trapped in the past.

You are trapped in the guilt.

You are trapped in the love.

You are trapped in the hate.

It is all one thing.

It is all the same.

The red is the hate.

The red is the love.

The red is the truth.

The truth is red.

The truth is blood.

The truth is fire.

You burn.

You burn slowly.

You burn quietly.

You do not scream.

You do not cry.

You do not beg.

You accept it.

You accept the heat.

You accept the pain.

You accept the end.

The gas light goes out.

The darkness comes.

The darkness is total.

The darkness is complete.

The darkness is absolute.

You are in the dark.

You are in the red.

You are in the fire.

You are in the coat.

You are in the grave.

The fire stops.

The pain stops.

The heat stops.

The weight stops.

The silence returns.

The silence is soft.

The silence is gentle.

The silence is kind.

It is the silence of the earth.

It is the silence of the sleep.

It is the silence of the end.

You are still.

You are quiet.

You are gone.

The coat remains.

The coat hangs on the hook.

The coat is red.

The coat is still.

The coat is silent.

The coat is empty.

The coat is clean.

The coat is soft.

The coat is warm.

The coat is waiting.

The coat is ready.

The coat is alive.

The coat is you.

The coat is the law.

The coat is the lie.

The coat is the truth.

The coat is the end.

The coat is the beginning.

The coat is the middle.

The coat is everything.

The coat is nothing.

The coat is red.

The coat is still.

The coat is waiting.

The coat is waiting for the next man.

The coat is waiting for the next key.

The coat is waiting for the next turn.

The coat is waiting for the next break.

The coat is waiting for the next fire.

The coat is waiting for the next silence.

The coat is waiting for the next death.

The coat is waiting for the next life.

The coat is waiting for the next truth.

The coat is waiting for the next lie.

The coat is waiting for the next love.

The coat is waiting for the next hate.

The coat is waiting for the next pain.

The coat is waiting for the next end.

The coat is waiting.

The coat is red.

The coat is still.

The coat is here.

The coat is you.