The Faded Paradox
The coat was red. It sat on the hook by the door. A deep, arterial red. It looked new. I knew it was not. I pulled it on. It fit me. It had always fit me. "Look at you," said the woman in the kitchen. She was my sister. Claire. She held a cup of tea. Her hands shook. "I am cold," I said. "You are never cold. You are always burning." I looked in the mirror. My face was pale. My eyes were dark....
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