The Faded Alibi
The train that carried me into the valley of the White Pines did not move so much as it glided, a silent, iron whale breaching a sea of mist that clung to the hillsides with the tenacity of a grief that refuses to be exhumed. I sat in the corner of the second-class car, my knees pressed together, watching the trees blur into a continuous, undulating gray line, a visual rhythm that matched the...
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