The Faded Alibi
You dream of the blue. It is a specific shade. Cobalt. Deep and cold. You see it in the lining of a coat you did not buy. It is the color of the sky before the storm breaks in late November. You wake with the taste of ozone in your mouth. The air in your apartment is stale. It smells of old coffee and damp wool. You are an immigrant. You have been here for three years. You speak the language...
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