The Distant Cartograph

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2026-08-18 05:46:31 -

The coat was wool, heavy and the color of dried blood, a deep maroon that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. I had worn it for seven years, through winters that bit at the bones and summers that offered no relief, until the fabric had softened into something that felt less like clothing and more like a second skin, a membrane between my self and the cold indifference of the...

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