The long, draped coats which hung on the outside of the doors in the spare room would always look like a person, in the shadow of the night. I never gave them much thought during the day. Yet as the shimmers in my eyes grew more intense, moving shadows with flicking tails as the result of retinal bleeding, the transmuting effect of the fabric in the darkness would begin to become somewhat more disturbing by addition, and so the coats would just need to be moved. In the morning I went to touch the black material and my fingers passed right through.


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