The Pale Echo
"You’ve ruined the lining," said Margot, her voice flat and sharp as a scalpel. She held up the coat, the dark wool stretched over the arm of the chair, exposing the raw, fraying edges of the inner fabric. It was a simple garment, a heavy thing meant for the damp streets of the city, but in Margot’s hands, it looked like a corpse. Thomas stared at the tear. He had not meant to do it. He had...
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