The Golden Harbor
The coat hung heavy on Elias’s arm, its gold-threaded fabric catching the dim light of the harbor office in a way that seemed to absorb the room’s remaining warmth. It was Clara’s, the one she had worn to the opera the night before the fever took her, and it smelled of lavender water and something older, something like dried blood. Elias ran his left hand over the lapel, a gesture so habitual...
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