The Distant Threshold
You dream of the weight. It is not a dream of flight. It is a dream of burden. The coat is heavy. It is black wool. It is old. It is yours. You wake. The room is cold. London rain strikes the glass. You sit up. Your heart beats slow. It beats deep. You look at the bed. The coat is there. It hangs on the back of the chair. It has always been there. It will always be there. You do not move. You...
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