The Wistful Petal
The coat hangs in the hallway, a heavy thing of charcoal wool that has absorbed the damp chill of a decade of winters. It is not merely an article of clothing; it is a sentinel, a silent witness to the slow erosion of your marriage, and you know, with a certainty that feels like a physical weight in your chest, that it is watching you. You are a man of the law, a detective who has spent thirty...
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