The Distant Clue
The coat was not merely a garment but a living archive of silence, a heavy, woolen shroud that Elias Thorne wore as if it were a second skin, a second skull, a vessel for the terrible, accumulating weight of a history that refused to be spoken aloud. It was a dark, charcoal-colored thing, frayed at the cuffs where the fabric had surrendered to years of friction, yet its core remained stubbornly...
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