The Threshold of Silence
(V-04: Film Noir) The rain in this city didn't wash anything away; it just moved the grime from one alley to another. I sat in my office, the neon sign from the "Blue Note" across the street blinking like a dying heart, casting rhythmic slashes of cobalt across my desk. I was drinking rye and waiting for a client who was probably already dead. My name is Elias. I find things. Usually, it's...
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