The Faded Alibi
October 14, 1912. The smell is back. It sits in the corner of the kitchen, thick and sweet, like apples left too long in a damp crate. You wipe the table, but the scent clings to the wood grain, to your apron, to the inside of your nose. It is the smell of Thomas. Or rather, the smell of the chair where Thomas used to sit, before he vanished three years ago, leaving you to pick up the pieces of...
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