The Pale Shadows
The wool is thick. It itches. You pull at the sleeve. The fabric clings to your skin. It is grey. It is heavy. It smells of damp stone and old smoke. You are in the alley behind the tannery. The air is thick. It coats your tongue. You are small. You are wet. The rain has stopped. The puddles are still. They reflect the grey sky. They reflect the grey coat. You look down. The coat is yours. Or...
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