The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-22 11:36:21 -

The Faded Alibi

The mist sat heavy on the moor. It was a thick, grey wool. It smelled of wet stone and old bone. I walked away from the gate. My husband stood there. He did not wave. He did not call. He just watched. His face was a mask. I carried the basket. It held my life. Or so I thought. The path was narrow. The heather brushed my skirts. It tore at the wool. I pulled the shawl tighter. The cold bit deep....

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