The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-20 13:54:40 -

The Faded Alibi

The air in the bunker tasted of rust and damp wool. It was a metallic tang. It coated the back of my throat. I sat on a folding chair. The metal legs dug into the concrete floor. My name is Arthur. I am a data entry clerk. Or I was. Now I am a prisoner of my own mind. The war has not ended. It has only changed its shape. It is here, in the silence. It is here, in the hum of the ventilation...

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