The Wistful Cipher
The sound of the shattering was not a crash, but a wet, tearing pop, like a bone snapping under the weight of a heavy boot, and it came from the center of my chest where the badge used to be. I was sitting in the sterile, beige quiet of the interrogation room at the precinct, the fluorescent lights humming a low, sickly note that seemed to vibrate in my teeth, and I was waiting for the pain to...
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