The Wistful Cipher
The coat was missing. You know this. It has been missing for three days. It hangs on the hook in the lobby, a ghost of wool and grey thread, but the lining is empty. You run your hand over the fabric. It is cold. It is heavy. It is not there. You are a clerk. You process files. You stamp documents. You sit in a windowless room on the fourth floor of the Municipal Annex, a building of concrete...
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