The Faded Dust
The coat is red. It is a violent, arterial red that clashes with the beige walls of the house. You are wearing it. You have been wearing it for three days. It smells of lavender and iron. Your sister, Clara, is sitting across from you at the kitchen table. She is not looking at you. She is looking at the window. The light is gray. It is the kind of gray that eats color. "Did you take it?" she...
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