The Golden Master

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2026-08-19 08:43:03 -

The Golden Master

He dreamed of the wool again. It was thick and grey. It smelled of lanolin and damp stone. He was running. The ground was soft, but the coat was heavy. It weighed him down like wet sand. Like guilt. He pulled at the collar. It did not give. The fabric tightened. It was not a coat. It was a skin. It was growing over his bones. He woke with a gasp. The air in the cell was stale. It tasted of iron...

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