The Faded Alibi
I kept the jars on the high shelf. Dust gathered there. It was thick. It tasted of old paper and dry rot. I did not look at them often. I had my work to do. The university was cold. The stone walls held the damp. I was a scholar of history. I studied the plague years. I studied the decay of empires. I ignored my own decay. My name is Arthur Penhaligon. I was sixty-two. I moved with a stiffness...
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