The Pale Verdict
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a gray curtain of mist that turned the steel and glass of the precinct into a blurred watercolor. We sat in the break room, the fluorescent lights humming a low, electric tune that seemed to vibrate in the teeth. There were twelve of us, the shift that had held the line for seventy-two hours straight. Coffee cups, cold and dregs-heavy, sat in...
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