The Midnight Signal
The rain in Los Angeles didn't wash things clean. It just made the grime slicker. I sat at my desk in the office above a Chinatown noodle shop, staring at the bottle of bourbon that had been my only client this month. The bottle was also my only friend. The distinction was mostly academic. The door opened without a knock. Of course it didn't. Women like her never knocked. She was tall,...
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