The Faded Alibi
The static on the radio is not empty. It is a low, granular hiss that swells and recedes like the tide against the harbor wall, and within that white noise, you hear the cadence of Clara’s voice. It is not a word, not yet, but the shape of her breath, the specific rhythm of her laughter when she was pleased with a joke you did not make. You sit in the office of Halloway & Sons Actuaries, a firm...
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