The Faded Apartment
The rain had a texture like wet sand, gritty against the glass of the patrol car window. I watched the water bead and slide, a slow, rhythmic erosion of the view outside. Inside, the air was stale, recycled breath and the metallic tang of fear. My uniform coat, heavy wool, felt like a shroud. It had started as a crisp, charcoal blue, the color of a midnight sky, but years of rain and sweat had...
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