The Faded Alibi
The wool had turned to gray dust. It clung to the boy’s skin. It was not just a coat. It was his second hide. Wren stared at the mirror. The glass was cracked. A spiderweb of fractures spread from the center. He did not see his face. He saw the fabric. It was threadbare. The cuffs were ragged. The sleeves were short. The wool had worn away where his elbows bent. It was a map of his movements. A...
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