The Faded Shield
The rain hits the pavement in a rhythm that feels like a warning. You know the sound. You have heard it for twenty years. It is the sound of the city trying to wash itself clean, but failing. You step off the bus onto the wet asphalt. The air is cold. It cuts through your jacket. It finds the gaps in your armor. Your armor is not metal. It is paper. It is files. It is the badge pinned to your...
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