The-Manhattan-Silence
The elevator stopped on the fourteenth floor and I walked out onto a hallway that smelled like floor wax and someone's attempt at lavender air freshener. Marcus Voss's apartment was at the end of the corridor, door number 14B, and I knew from experience that inside it would be exactly as untidy and as immaculate as you expected a corporate lawyer's apartment to be. I knocked twice. The kind of...
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