The Distant Clue
The seal is fading. Look at it. Right there. On your left thumb. The ink. It is gone. You scrubbed. Too hard. You thought you could wash it away. You were wrong. You are Sergeant Elias Thorne. You are here. At the clinic. For the checkup. The air smells of bleach. And old paper. And fear. The fluorescent lights hum. A low, sick drone. Like a bee trapped in a jar. You sit. In the plastic chair....
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