The Pale Banner
The rain hits the glass. It is a heavy, gray sheet. You are standing at the window. Your hands are wrapped around a ceramic mug. It is cold to the touch. You do not feel the cold. You feel only the vibration of the storm against the frame. Inside the room, the air is still. It smells of wet wool and old paper. On the table, there is a folded piece of cloth. It is white. It is a flag. Or it was....
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