The Faded Alibi
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain drawn tight against the windowpane of the study. You sat in the leather chair, the one that groaned under your weight like an old man shifting in his sleep. The house was silent, a heavy, industrial silence born of thick walls and iron radiators. Outside, the smokestacks of the textile mill belched their grey breath into the fog, a...
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