The Faded River
The wool coat hung in the hallway, a dark and heavy thing that had once been the color of deep pine but had since faded to the gray of winter ash. It belonged to Arthur, who stood by the window, watching the rain streak the glass in thin, erratic lines. He was a man of fifty, a clerk at the municipal archives, a life spent in the quiet dust of other people’s records. The coat was his anchor,...
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