The Distant Journey
The rain did not fall; it pressed against the windows of the precinct station like a living thing, a grey, heavy blanket that smothered the neon glow of the city streets below. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood before the mirror in the locker room, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the brass buttons of his duty uniform. The fabric was stiff, a dark navy wool that smelled of starch and old...
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