The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-17 22:32:25 -

The Distant Ghost

The cloak was heavy. It smelled of wet wool and old iron. I wore it tight against my chest. The wind bit through the layers. We walked. The road was long. It stretched into the gray mist. No end in sight. Just the mud and the cold. I was a scribe. I copied laws. I served the High Court. I had no power. I had no voice. But I had the cloak. It belonged to my father. He wore it when he stood...

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