The Faded Alibi
14 November 1919 The mud at the river’s edge is black and slick, holding the shape of my boot like a mold for a grave. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and I am a clerk of no consequence in a town that has forgotten my name. I want to cross the water. I want to reach Mara, who is held in the garrison on the far bank, and I want to bring her home before the cold sets in for good. The...
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