The Faded Dust

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2026-08-19 20:09:38 -

The Faded Dust

I dreamed of the wool coat again, the one my father wore to the funeral of his own mother, a heavy, charcoal-grey thing that smelled of wet earth and old pipe tobacco, and in the dream I was running through a field of withered barley, chasing the hem of that coat as if it were a ghost trying to escape me, the fabric tearing into ribbons that snapped against the wind like the flapping of dead...

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