The Faded Guest
The coat hung in the closet. It was wool. Heavy. Gray. I looked at it. I knew it. I had worn it for twenty years. It was my uniform. Not the badge. Not the gun. The coat. It held the shape of me. The shoulders were broad. The collar was stiff. It smelled of dust. And rain. And old smoke. I was in my mother’s house. The hallway was narrow. The light was dim. I stood before the closet door. My...
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