The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-20 21:41:08 -

The coat hung on the hook by the door. It was a heavy thing, wool the color of dried blood, smelling of pipe tobacco and rain. Elias stood in the doorway of the small flat in London, his hands trembling as he reached for it. He had worn it for ten years. It had carried him across the ocean, through the snows of a foreign winter, and into the heart of a city that did not know his name. Now, it...

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