The rain in Chicago doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the dirt wetter.
The rain in Chicago doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the dirt wetter. I was sitting in my office on South State Street, watching the water run down the windowpane and distort the neon sign across the street into a pink smear, when she walked in. The door had no bell. It never did. The hinge was rusty and the spring was broken, so the door made a sound like a man clearing his throat—half...
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