The Faded Alibi
The banquet hall of the old mill town, a place that had long since ceased to exist in any official register but remained stubbornly etched into the marrow of Elias Thorne, was a cacophony of clinking silver and low, drunken laughter that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and up into his teeth. It was a feast of the impossible, a gathering of the lost and the forgotten, where the air...
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