The Wistful Grid

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2026-08-19 05:28:14 -

The Wistful Grid

The coat hung in the corner. It was a heavy thing. Wool. Dark green. It had seen better days. The elbows were worn thin. The buttons were mismatched. One was brass. One was bone. One was missing entirely. Margaret looked at it. She did not touch it. She sat at her desk. The wood was cold. The ink was dry. The pen lay still. Outside, the rain tapped against the glass. A steady rhythm. A patient...

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