The Needle
I. The faucet in the kitchen drip-drip-dripped into the stainless steel sink, a sound so constant that Frank Kowalski had stopped hearing it months ago. It was like the hum of the refrigerator or the groan of the apartment building's heating system—background noises that marked the passage of time without actually marking anything. He sat at the table with a cup of coffee that had gone cold...
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