The Faded Apartment
The coat was wool, a heavy, charcoal grey fabric that had once possessed the stiffness of new iron but now hung on my shoulders with the limp, exhausted dignity of a retired soldier. It was a thing that had seen so many winters, so many colds, and so many quiet, unspoken negotiations with the wind that it had ceased to be merely an object and had become a second skin, a membrane through which I...
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