The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-17 17:54:04 -

The coat hung on the back of the chair like a shed skin, its wool felted and coarse to the touch, smelling faintly of damp wool and the metallic tang of old blood. I had worn it for eleven years, since the day the judge’s gavel fell and the world narrowed to the four whitewashed walls of the cell, and then to the even smaller space of my own mind. It was not a garment, not truly, but a second...

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