The Wistful Voyage
The rain in Seattle did not wash things clean; it merely made the grime slicker, more treacherous underfoot. Elias Thorne stood at the window of the fourth-floor office at the Bureau of Culinary Forensics, watching the water streak down the glass in jagged, erratic lines. He was a man who believed in the integrity of the grain, the purity of the source, and the absolute truth of the chemical...
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