The Distant Wound

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2026-08-20 00:14:56 -

The Distant Wound

The coat was gone. It had hung on the hook by the door for forty years. It was wool, dark as a bruise, heavy with the weight of your history. Now the hook was bare. You stood in the hallway of your small, cramped office. The air smelled of dust and old paper. Where is it? you asked. The voice did not come from your mouth. It came from the walls. You looked at your hands. They were thin. They...

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