The Faded Alibi
The departure was not a dramatic tearing away, but a slow, quiet exhalation, like the last breath held in a lung that had finally decided to let go. Margaret Holloway stood at the window of the library, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass, watching the autumn rain streak the windowpane in long, silver threads that blurred the world outside into a watercolor of grey and brown. She...
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