The Faded Alibi
The fire started at the elbows. Margaret felt the heat before she saw the smoke. It bloomed in the cartilage. A red pulse. Then a yellow spread. It was not painful. It was a tingling. A warning. She looked down. Her hands were on fire. She dropped the ledger. It hit the wet floor of the warehouse. The paper sizzled. No. The paper did not sizzle. Her hands did. She stared. The skin was bubbling....
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