The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-20 01:08:38 -

The Faded Alibi

The ink was dry. It sat on the parchment. Black. Final. Thomas watched it. He was seven. His hands were small. They trembled. The parchment was rough. It smelled of oak and dust. It smelled of his father’s study. It smelled of the end. The room was cold. The fire had died. Embers glowed red. Then dim. Then black. Outside, rain hit the glass. Tap. Tap. Tap. A rhythm. A countdown. Thomas looked...

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