The Faded Attic
The leather was cold, stiff with the particular dryness of things kept too long in a sealed box, and Elias held it in his hands as if it were a live animal that might bolt. It was his father’s jacket, the one from the final deployment, the one the service had returned in a plastic bag with a tag that read *Property of the Estate*. He ran his thumb over the shoulder seam, feeling the fraying...
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