The Distant Clue
The wool of the coat had begun to pill, small gray moths of felt forming on the elbows and shoulders, a topography of wear that mapped the years I had spent walking these streets. It was a heavy thing, charcoal grey, with a lining of silk that had once been vibrant but now lay dull and frayed against the skin, absorbing the damp chill of the city rather than repelling it. I remembered the day...
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