The Wistful Saga
The badge hung heavy on his chest. It was a circle of silver. It felt cold. "Check your breathing, Miller," the voice said. It was dry. It was old. It came from the other side of the desk. Miller adjusted his tie. The knot was tight. Too tight. He looked at the monitor. The pixels blurred. He blinked. The image sharpened. A face. A woman. She was smiling. "Who is she?" Miller asked. "Does it...
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