The Faded Guest
The coat hung on the nail. It was wool. Heavy. Dark as a bruise. Rain lashed the windows of the inn. The inn was old. Stone. Cold. Outside, the fog rolled in. Thick. White. Blind. It swallowed the road. It swallowed the trees. It swallowed the world. Inside, the fire popped. Sparks flew. Died in the hearth. Thomas stood by the door. He watched the coat. His hands shook. Not from cold. From...
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