The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-19 08:38:51 -

The rain hit the pavement in a steady, gray sheet. It drummed against the windows of the precinct. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of stale coffee and wet wool. Detective Elias Thorne sat at his desk. He did not move. His hands rested flat on the wood. He stared at the empty chair across from him. There was a bird on the windowsill. It was a small thing. A sparrow, perhaps. Or a finch....

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