The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 12:01:18 -

The coat was gone. Not lost. Not stolen. Gone. I stood in the center of the archive room, the air thick with the dust of dead paper. The fluorescent lights buzzed. A low, electric hum. It vibrated in my teeth. I had worn it for ten years. Wool. Charcoal. Heavy. It held the shape of my shoulders. It held the scent of rain and old tobacco. It was my skin. And now, there was only the hook. A bare...

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