The Distant Temple
The rain had stopped, but the air in the atrium of the St. Jude’s Correctional Center for Juvenile Delinquency remained thick with the scent of wet wool and industrial disinfectant. Margaret Holloway stood by the glass partition, her reflection ghostly against the gray sky, watching the young man on the other side. He was called Arthur, though the file listed him as Subject 402. He sat on a...
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