The Faded Alibi
The rain had not stopped for three days, a grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world and turned the cobblestones of the lower docks into slick, black mirrors. I sat in the corner of the public house, the wood of the chair worn smooth by a century of nervous hands, and watched the steam rise from my mug of tea. It was a cold, thin brew, tasting of dust and iron, but it was the only thing...
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