The Faded Alibi
The air in the archives of the St. Jude’s Orphanage was thick with the scent of decaying paper and the ghostly residue of ink that had long since dried into the very fibers of the documents, a smell that Margaret Holloway had come to associate not with history, but with the slow, suffocating weight of a truth that refused to be spoken aloud. She stood before the long, scarred oak table where...
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