The Faded Masquerade
Elara held the wool coat in her hands, the fabric heavy with the damp scent of the cellar where it had hung for the winter. It was a charcoal grey, worn thin at the elbows, smelling faintly of the lavender sachet she had tucked into the pocket three months ago. The lavender was gone now, replaced by a musty, metallic tang that clung to the fibers like a second skin. She folded it neatly,...
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