The Static Man
(Style D: Film Noir) The rain in Los Angeles didn't wash anything away; it just turned the grime into a mirror. I sat in my office, the kind of place where the dust has its own zip code and the only thing that works is the bottle of rye in the bottom drawer. My name is Max, and I specialize in finding things that people spent a lot of money to lose. The job came in on a Tuesday. A dame with...
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