The Faded Quadrant
The coat is red. It hangs on the hook by the door. You see it every morning. The red is bright. Too bright. It screams in the quiet room. You are a scholar. You study history. You study the past. The past is dead. The present is loud. You wear the coat. It fits you. It feels heavy. It feels like armor. You are in the bunker. The walls are concrete. The air is stale. Dust motes dance in the...
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