The Faded River
The rain in Chicago did not fall so much as it suspended itself, a grey, heavy curtain that blurred the edges of the city into a watercolor of indeterminate shapes, turning the steel and glass of the Loop into a mirage that trembled under the weight of its own reflection. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the plaza, his posture rigid against the damp chill, his eyes fixed on the old...
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