The Faded Alibi
The train left you behind in the gray mist of the station, its whistle a thin, dying thread that snapped as it rounded the bend. You stood there, clutching your coat, the wool damp with the November rain. The platform was empty save for a single, withered tree whose branches clawed at the sky like the fingers of a drowning man. You watched the tracks until they vanished into the fog, a silver...
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