The Faded Paradox
You are standing in the hallway of the precinct, the air thick with the smell of stale coffee and floor wax, holding a small, crumpled foil packet that contains a single, dissolving tablet of something you swore you had left behind in the war, that strange chemical ghost of a life that no longer belongs to you, a relic of a soldier who is now just a man in a cheap suit trying to figure out why...
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