The Whitmore File
Act I The whiskey was on the counter. The bottles were on the counter. The eviction notice was also on the counter, which felt like either good customer service or a very bad joke. I was leaning against the counter when the text came through, so I read it with my left hand while my right hand was holding the last good bottle of Bulleit like it was going to make a run for it. The number was one...
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