The Faded Alibi

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-21 12:13:40 -

The Faded Alibi

The rain hits the cobblestones like a drumroll for the dead. You stand on the balcony. The air is wet. It smells of wet stone and old iron. Your hand rests on the pommel of your sword. The leather is worn smooth. You have polished it for ten years. You have sharpened it for ten years. You do it for him. For your brother. He is dead. He died three winters ago. A fever took him. Or so they say....

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