The Raw Nerve
The rain in Detroit didn't wash things clean; it only turned the city's grime into a thick, grey paste that clung to everything. Leo worked in a basement clinic on 8th Street, a place that didn't exist on any official map. He was a "patch-up" man, a disgraced surgeon who had traded his license for a steady supply of morphine and a clientele of people who couldn't afford to be seen by a...
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