The Faded Alibi
Act I Suresh Khan’s hands shook as he pressed the rubber stamp into the wet ink pad, the motion jerky, a spasm of muscle failing under the weight of fifty-eight years. The official seal, a circle of authority he had carried for three decades, was crumbling at the edges, the rubber soft and black with age. He lifted it, and a drop of ink fell, not onto the paper, but onto the white cuff of his...
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