The Faded Paradox
The coat was heavy. That was the first thing I noticed. It weighed more than wool should. It hung on the hook by the door of my small office at the St. Jude’s Benevolent Society, a dark, mottled thing like a bruise on the wood. I had found it in the lost and found bin three days ago. No tag. No name. Just a smell of damp earth and old tobacco. I put it on. It fit. It fit too well. The sleeves...
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