The Wistful Show
Elias woke with the taste of iron in his mouth. The dream was gone. Only the weight remained. He sat up. The room was dark. Rain tapped against the glass. Soft. Persistent. He looked down. His hands were shaking. On the bed lay the coat. It was his father’s. Wool. Heavy. Brown. Worn thin at the elbows. The buttons were brass. Tarnished. Elias touched the fabric. It was cold. He had not worn it...
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