The Golden Maze
The coat is red. It is not a deep crimson, but the bright, alarming red of a stop sign. It is a wool blend, thinning at the elbows. You wear it because it is the only thing that fits. You wear it because it is yours. You are in the house. The house is white. The paint is peeling in the hall. The floorboards creak under your boots. You are a detective. You investigate the missing money. The...
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