The Cleaner's Toll

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2026-06-10 11:51:58 -

The rain in New York doesn't wash anything away; it just moves the filth from one alley to another. I sat in my office, the neon sign of the deli across the street blinking a rhythmic, nauseating pink. My desk was a graveyard of empty bourbon bottles and unpaid bills. My name is Miller. For fifteen years, I've been a private investigator, which is a fancy way of saying I get paid to find things...

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