Blackout Protocol
The blinds were half-closed in Callahan & Associates, just the way Jack preferred them. Not open enough to see out, not closed enough to feel trapped. It was a balance his father had taught him, or maybe just a habit Jack had inherited along with the fedora, the magnifying glass, and the desk that smelled like whiskey and old paper. He was thirteen, small for his age, but the fedora made him...
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