The Faded Alibi
The light here does not fall; it strikes. It bounces off the crevassed snowfield beyond the barracks, a white glare that bleaches the color from the straw pallets and turns the air into a solid, cold thing. I woke before the bells, which mark a shift no one works, and the silence was so heavy it pressed against my eardrums like deep water. Elise was coughing. Not the wet, rattling sound of the...
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