Nothing Clean About It
Act 1 The apartment smelled like old grease and the radiator hissed like something dying. Clarice sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes ago and a file folder open in front of her. Inside the folder were three pages of photocopies and a handwritten list of names. She had written the names herself, in a pen she'd bought at a drugstore for ninety-nine...
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