The Faded Alibi
I kept the kitchen clean. Not just clean. Sterile. The stainless steel counter gleamed under the fluorescent tube that hummed a low, constant E-flat. It was the sound of my mind. I wiped the same spot on the granite three times. Then four. The residue was invisible. It had been invisible for years. But I knew it was there. The ghost of the meal. The evidence of the appetite. My name is Silas...
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