The Faded Alibi
The river was still there. It always was. It did not care that I had left it, or that I had returned to it with nothing in my pockets but the dust of the city and the silence of my own making. I stood on the embankment, watching the water turn its gray face toward the setting sun, and I thought about how we are all just merchants of time, trading hours for moments that never quite hold their...
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