The Faded Alibi
The wool of his collar had long since lost its shape, fraying into a coarse, gray fuzz that rubbed against his neck like sandpaper. He pulled it tighter, a reflexive motion born of decades of habit, though the fabric offered no warmth, only the dull, heavy weight of its own decay. It was the only thing left of the man he used to be, a relic of a life that had ended not with a bang, but with a...
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