The Faded Alibi
The air in the laboratory always smelled of ozone and stale coffee, a pungent mixture that clung to the wool of my cardigan long after I had left the building. I sat at the heavy oak desk, the surface scarred by decades of ink stains and the dull rings of cold cups, and watched the condensation gather on the glass of the specimen jar before me. Inside, the sample suspended in its viscous,...
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