Double Blind
The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash anything clean. It just makes the grime slicker. I sat in my office on Flower Street, watching the water carve paths through the dust on my windowpane, and wondered if I was getting paid enough for this particular brand of foolish. The answer, as always, was no. Rent was due in four days and the client who'd hired me to find a missing woman had paid me five...
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