The Pale Banner
The coat was white. Not the white of snow, which is forgiving and soft. It was the clinical, sterile white of a hospital gown, pressed flat by an industrial iron until the fabric held a memory of pressure. Margaret stood in the doorway of the community center. Her hands trembled. The coat hung on her back, stiff as a shield. It was her armor. It was her skin. She stepped inside. The air smelled...
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