The Pale Bridge

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2026-08-20 09:52:12 -

The Pale Bridge

The coat had been in the wardrobe for forty years, a heavy thing of charcoal wool that had once belonged to Arthur’s father, and now to Arthur, and now, by some slow and silent inheritance, to his son, Julian. It was a garment that remembered the cold, that held the scent of pipe tobacco and damp earth even after decades of airing in the sun. Arthur stood before the mirror in the small, dimly...

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