The Faded Paradox
The coat was the first thing to go, or rather, the first thing I tried to leave behind, though it seemed to have roots in the skin, a second layer of flesh that breathed in rhythm with my own, a heavy, charcoal wool thing that had belonged to a man named Julian Vane before I had stolen it, or perhaps it had been given to me in a transaction so old and blurred by time that the distinction...
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