The Faded Alibi
The morning air in Oakhaven held a brittle stillness that seemed to crack the light against the grey stone of the municipal building, where Elias Thorne stood before the glass doors, his left hand tucked deep within the wool of his coat, trembling with a palsy that he had spent two decades learning to hide. He was forty years old, a clerk of the archives whose life had been measured in the...
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