The Faded Guest
The rain didn’t fall. It hung. Elias stood in the center of the shop, the air thick as wet wool. Dust motes suspended in the grey light, frozen in place. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Not from cold. From fear. The coat was on the table. It was his coat. Or it had been. The wool was the same charcoal grey. The buttons were the same brass, tarnished by years of his sweat. But it...
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