The Wistful Mirror

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-18 21:44:40 -

The coat was not mine, or rather, it had not been mine until the moment I put it on, which was a strange kind of theft, a quiet robbery of my own skin. It was a heavy thing, woolen and dark, the color of a bruise that refuses to fade, smelling of mothballs and the stale, metallic tang of old libraries. I found it hanging in the narrow hallway of my grandfather’s estate, a place that smelled of...

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