The Distant Ghost
The banquet hall smelled of stale beer and wet wool, a heavy, suffocating mix that clung to the back of your throat. You sat at the head of the table, the wood cold through your uniform trousers, watching the steam rise from the plate of boiled potatoes in front of you. Around you, the men of the 4th Precinct laughed, a jagged, barking sound that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. Captain...
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