The Wistful Cipher
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, gray sheet that turned the window into a blurred pane of slate, and I sat in the corner of the cell, my hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone cold hours ago, listening to the hum of the ventilation system. It was a sound that had become the only thing I knew, a low, electric drone that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones,...
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