The Faded Alibi
Mara walked the long, gray corridor. The floorboards creaked under her shoes, a dry, rhythmic sound that matched her pulse. She was not a doctor. She was not a nurse. She was something older, something the village had called a whisperer before the concrete buildings swallowed the old fields. She carried a small clay pot in her hands. It was warm to the touch. Inside, a dark liquid swirled,...
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