The Faded Alibi
The ink dried slow on the page. Elias watched it settle. He was a man of words. Not spoken words. Written ones. He worked in the basement of the university library. A windowless room. The air tasted of dust and old paper. He smelled of coffee and fear. His job was simple. Cataloging. Digitizing. Preserving the past. He loved this work. It was his cause. His obsession. He believed that if he...
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