The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-19 08:49:11 -

The coat was blue. Not a soft, forgiving denim blue, but a violent, electric azure that seemed to hum against the gray drizzle of the London afternoon. I wore it like a second skin, stitched into my own pulse, and I knew, with the cold certainty of a stone dropping into deep water, that I was the prisoner. Not of a cell, but of the garment itself. It had been waiting for me in the attic, folded...

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