Sample V-07: The Witness in the Mist
I remember the first time I saw him. He was a complete mess—stumbling through the rain, smelling of cheap rye, and completely oblivious to the fact that he had just ground my favorite silk tie into a pile of ash. I didn't mind at first. Being dead gives you a lot of time to appreciate the irony of human clumsiness, and watching a drunk man struggle with his own shoelaces is a decent way to pass...
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