The Distant Wound

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2026-08-20 21:18:16 -

The Distant Wound

The coat was too warm. It smelled of lavender and old paper, a scent that clung to the wool like a second skin. I held it in my hands, the fabric soft and yielding, while the rain hammered against the window of the office. It was a grey Tuesday in the capital, a city that had forgotten how to breathe. The air outside was thick with the scent of ozone and decay, the usual perfume of the Quiet...

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