The Golden Greenhouse
The first thing Marcus saw when he returned to his study was the coat. It hung on the back of the door, a heavy wool thing in a shade of forest green so deep it seemed to absorb the afternoon light. It was not his coat. He knew this with the immediate, cold certainty of a man who has cataloged every thread in his life. His own coat, a charcoal grey that had thinned at the elbows from years of...
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