The Faded Alibi
The petition lay on the table, a thin sheet of brittle paper that Elias Thorne held up to the weak winter light, checking for the seal that had not yet been affixed, while the corner of the room remained occupied by a coldness that was not quite a draft but a distinct, heavy absence of warmth, the outline of a man who had not moved in eleven years. Elias was fifty-two, and his hands, which had...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews