The Neon Shroud
The rain in the city didn't wash anything away; it just smeared the neon lights into long, bleeding streaks of magenta and cyan. I'm Leo, a private eye with a penchant for cheap bourbon and cases that should have stayed closed. My office is a closet above a noodle shop, and my only friend is a ceiling fan that clicks like a countdown. Then Sera walked in. She wore a trench coat that had seen...
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