The Wistful Saga
The coat hung in the hallway like a forgotten ghost, its shoulders slumped in a posture of permanent exhaustion, a dark wool silhouette that seemed to absorb the grey light of the apartment rather than reflect it. It was not merely a garment but a heavy, suffocating presence, a second skin that had long since ceased to belong to the body that wore it and had instead calcified into an object of...
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