The Anatomy of Despair
The rain in Los Angeles didn't wash anything away; it only made the grime shine. Sarah sat in her office, the neon sign of the diner across the street flickering like a dying heart. She was a private investigator who specialized in the things people wanted to forget. Marcus was her only lead. A former psychiatrist whose license had been revoked for 'unorthodox methods,' he now operated as a...
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