The Distant Clue
"You have made a mess of things, Mr. Harrow," the voice said, and it was not the voice of the man standing before me, but the voice of the silence that had settled into the walls of the office, a silence so thick it tasted of stale coffee and old regret. I looked up from the desk, where my hands were trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, exhausting weight of the air pressure in the room,...
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