The Distant Ghost
You stand in the hallway, the air thick with the scent of lavender and old paper, holding a garment that does not belong to you, yet feels heavy with the weight of a life you have not yet lived. It is a coat, a long thing of charcoal wool, the kind that swallows the light and holds the warmth of a body that is no longer there. Your wife, Elara, stands by the window, her back to you, watching...
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