The Faded Alibi
The ink bled into the cheap paper of the ledger, smearing the date, October 14th, 1893, into a dark bruise that matched the throbbing ache in the knuckles of my left hand. I sat in the cramped office of the Blackwood Mine, the air thick with the smell of wet coal dust and the stale tobacco of the foreman, Mr. Halloway, who was sorting through a stack of payroll forms with the dispassionate care...
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