The Faded Portrait
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the city into a blur of wet asphalt and shattered reflections, and it was in this suffocating humidity that I found myself standing in the center of the precinct’s main bullpen, my hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer, vibrating intensity of the anger that had been building in my chest for months, a...
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