The Golden Visit
The coat was not merely an article of clothing; it was a skin, a second body woven from the heavy, iridescent wool of a creature that had long since perished in the cold mists of the Scottish highlands, a garment that hummed with a low, subsonic frequency only I seemed to hear. I held it in my hands, the fabric cool and damp against my palms, and I felt the weight of my own ignorance pressing...
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