The Faded Alibi
Act I Antoine Laraque remembered the weight of the vial before he remembered his own name, a cold, cracked thing that sat in his palm like a stone from the riverbed, heavy with a silence that had nothing to do with the noise of the world. He was thirty years old, a census enumerator for the county, and he was dying of a lung disease that turned his breath into a wet, rattling sound in the damp...
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