The Pale Verdict
The coat was gray. It was a heavy wool thing, cut wide in the shoulders, with a collar that stood up like a shield against the wind. Margaret wore it every day. It was not stylish. It was not new. It was, however, hers. She stood at the window of the small house in Oakhaven. The town was quiet in the way that only small towns in late autumn can be. The leaves were gone from the maples. The...
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