The Faded Alibi
The wool of the grey cloak had long since surrendered its dye to the damp air of the tower, fading into a shade so pale it resembled the bone beneath the skin of the man who wore it. It was not merely a garment but a second flesh, a living thing that had grown around Thomas Bradshaw’s shoulders over seven years of unbroken confinement. The fibers had matted and thickened, absorbing the sweat of...
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