The Distant Garden
The coat was red. Not a bright, cheerful red, but a deep, arterial crimson that seemed to drink the light from the room. It hung on the back of a wooden chair in the center of the white-walled hall, a violent splash of color against the sterile beige of the floor. Elias sat on the far side of the room, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was a small man, wiry and pale, with eyes that had seen...
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