The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-22 04:11:55 -

The Wistful Ashes

The coat hung in the hallway. It was a heavy thing. Wool. Dark green. It smelled of woodsmoke and old paper. Elias touched the sleeve. The fabric was rough against his palm. He had worn it for forty years. It was his father’s coat. Then his. Now it was just a coat. Outside, the rain tapped against the glass. A soft, persistent rhythm. The house was quiet. Too quiet. The clock in the kitchen...

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