The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-19 16:40:05 -

The Faded Alibi

The blood is warm. It drips from your knuckles onto the gray tile. You count the drops. One. Two. Three. The man on the floor is still. His eyes are open. They are wide and wet and empty. You stand over him. Your chest heaves. The air tastes of copper and sweat. You are a soldier. Or a cop. It does not matter. You are a man who breaks things. "Get up," you say. Your voice is rough. Like gravel....

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