The Distant Summer
The coat was a deep, absorbing indigo, the kind of blue that seemed to swallow the light in the narrow hallway of the house on Elm Street, a garment that had once belonged to her father and now hung like a heavy, silent accusation on the back of the door. Clara stood before the full-length mirror that her mother had insisted on installing in the bedroom last spring, a sleek, silver-framed pane...
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