The Faded Alibi
The frost on the windowpane of the infirmary had not yet begun to melt, a crystalline lattice that trapped the grey morning light in a web of fractured geometry, and I sat before the ledger, my fingers tracing the cold iron rim of the cup of black tea, watching the steam rise and dissolve into the stagnant air, for in this place of stone and silence, the only thing that moves with certainty is...
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