The Golden Greenhouse
The coat was missing. It hung on the hook by the door. The brass hook, bent slightly from the weight of years. The coat was there. But it was not the coat. I looked at it. I looked at the tag inside the collar. It said Wool Blend. My father’s coat was all wool. Heavy, dark, smelling of pipe tobacco and rain. This one smelled of dust and old paper. It was lighter. It moved when the wind pushed...
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