The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 11:36:30 -

The coat was red. It hung on the hook. It had always been red. You wore it every day. The fabric was soft. It smelled of wool. It smelled of you. Your name was Thomas. You were twelve. You lived in Oakhaven. The town was small. It was quiet. The air was thin. You felt watched. Not by people. By the coat. It moved when you did. It stretched when you breathed. It was not just clothing. It was...

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