The Faded Frequency
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the leaded glass of the watchtower, a rhythmic, metallic tapping that I began to count in my head. One, two, three. One, two, three. I wrote the number in the margin of my logbook, the ink blurring slightly under the damp air. Miles was gone. Not dead, not yet. But gone from the reach of the law, and from the reach of the night. He had...
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