The Wistful Mirror
The coat was too large for Thomas, a fact that had been true since the day he first stepped into the grey, humming corridors of St. Jude’s Academy. It was a heavy thing, woven from a dark wool that smelled faintly of cedar and old tobacco, and it belonged to his father, who had not been seen since the autumn the rains turned the roads into rivers. The coat did not shrink, nor did it fade; it...
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