The Faded Alibi
The glass beads of the bracelet lay scattered across the floorboards, each one a fractured star, catching the pale morning light in shards of blue and white. You kneel beside them, your knees sinking into the worn wool of the rug, and you try to count them, but your breath is too shallow, your hands too trembling. You are in the house of your childhood, the Whitmore estate, but it is not the...
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