The Faded Alibi
Act I The water in the bowl was cold, which was the only thing that made sense, given that the tap had been shut off for three days. I kept the fish bowl on my desk at the Municipal Waterworks, a cracked piece of blue porcelain that my wife, Mei, had bought at a market stall before she left, and I treated the filling of the vessel not as a miracle but as a mechanical quirk, a pressure leak in...
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