The Faded Alibi
The ceiling of the lecture hall cracked open on a Tuesday, shedding plaster and dust like a shedding of skin. It was not a dramatic collapse, but a slow, agonizing exhalation of the building’s age, a gray snowfall that settled on the backs of the students and the polished mahogany of the podium. Professor Arthur Vance did not flinch. He stood in the center of the room, his hands resting on the...
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