The Faded Alibi
The ring was warm. That was the first thing I noticed, before the light hit the page, before the coffee cooled in the mug on the desk. It sat on my left ring finger, heavy and gold, pressing a faint, reddish circle into the skin. I had not put it on. I looked at the date on the diary entry I had just begun. March 14th. Twenty-five years since the night David went into the river. I rubbed the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews