The Faded Quadrant
The coat had begun to unravel at the elbows. It was a small thing, a fraying of the deep charcoal wool that had once been so dense it could hold back the winter wind, now thinning into a gossamer whisper of fibers. Eleanor sat in the high-backed chair by the window, her hands resting on the lapels, feeling the roughness of the threads against her skin. The light in the study was grey and...
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