The Faded Chronicle
The rain had been falling for three days, a cold, persistent sheet that turned the gravel courtyard of the Detention Center into a gray slurry. I stood by the window of my office, watching the water streak down the glass, blurring the view of the holding cells below. The building was old, brick and stone, built in an era when the law still believed in weight and permanence. Now, it felt like a...
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