The Faded Alibi
The deed was thick in my hands, the paper yellowed and brittle at the corners, smelling faintly of the dust that had settled in the attic over two decades. I stood in the hallway of the house, the floorboards groaning under the weight of my boots, and tried to remember if I had ever actually walked through this door without the intent to flee. The air was still, stagnant, trapped in the high...
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