The Wistful Show
The rain hits the clay road like a punishment. You walk. Your boots are soaked through, the leather heavy and cold against your arches. You are carrying a coat. It is a long, charcoal wool thing, wide in the shoulders and deep in the pockets. It is not yours. It is yours. It is the only thing that keeps the wind from cutting through your ribs. You have been wearing it for three days. Before...
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