The Faded Ruin
The red coat was the first thing I noticed, hanging on the hook by the door of the High Commissioner’s office, a stark and impossible splash of crimson against the drab, beige walls of the Ministry of Internal Stability, a garment that seemed to pulse with a life of its own in the sterile, air-conditioned silence of the corridor where I stood, my hands trembling not from fear but from the...
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