The Pale Banner
The rain has been falling on the slate roof of the precinct for three days, a rhythmic, gray drumming that seems to vibrate through the floorboards and into the soles of your shoes, a constant reminder that the world outside is dissolving into a slurry of mud and forgetting while you sit in the windowless room at the end of the corridor, staring at the file that weighs more than lead and less...
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