The Distant Clue
The wool of the greatcoat had begun to give way at the elbows, a slow, silent surrender of fibers that exposed the rough gray lining beneath, a texture that had long since ceased to be merely fabric and had instead become the skin of my own exhaustion, a second hide worn thin by the relentless friction of the wind and the weight of the years I had spent patrolling the endless, featureless...
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