The Golden Cellar
The coat was heavy, not with weight, but with a kind of suffocating warmth that seemed to press against my skin like a second, more insistent pulse. It was made of a deep, iridescent velvet that shifted from midnight blue to a bruised purple depending on how the light caught the folds, and it smelled faintly of ozone and old paper, a scent that had no business existing on a garment worn by a...
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