The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-17 21:50:47 -

The coat hung on the hook by the door, a heavy thing of black wool that had once absorbed the scent of pipe tobacco and rain. Now it smelled only of dust and the faint, metallic tang of the boiler room. Arthur Pendelton stood before it, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the collar. The fabric was thinning at the elbows, the weave fraying into a landscape of loose threads that caught...

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