The Faded Alibi
The brass gears were cold under my fingertips, a weight I had carried for twenty years without complaint. I am Elias Thorne, and for four decades I have lived in the quiet rhythm of the tick, the tock, the precise oscillation of the pendulum that defines the life of a horologist. My workshop is a cramped rectangle of dust and oil, a sealed world where the air hangs thick with the scent of aged...
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