The neon cross above Morrison's Clinic flickered like a dying heartbeat. Jack Morrison stared at it from his chair behind the desk, wondering if he had the energy to change the bulb or if he should just let it go dark.
It was 11 PM on a Tuesday in November 1947. The clinic was a converted storefront on East Third Street in Skid Row, downtown Los Angeles. The sign had said "Morrison & Associates" once, but Morrison had dropped the "& Associates" three years ago when the last associate left to join a real hospital in Beverly Hills. Jack had been a medic in Normandy. He had pulled boys out of hedgerows with...
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