The Distant Joke
The tower stood in the center of the square. It was a column of black stone, old and silent. You watched it from your office window. The glass was cold against your forehead. Rain streaked down the pane. It blurred the world outside. You were the investigator. That was your job. You looked for lies. You found them in the way people spoke. You found them in the way they looked away. The building...
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