The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-20 10:55:53 -

Miles stood at the window. The glass was cold. He touched it. His breath fogged the pane. Outside, the city moved. It did not stop. It never stopped. Cars hummed. Lights blinked. The rain fell in sheets. It washed the streets clean. It washed nothing else. Miles looked at his hands. They were empty. He had been wearing the coat for three days. The coat was blue. It was wool. It was his...

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