The Faded Apartment
The rain fell upon the slate roofs of the police station with a persistent, rhythmic drumming that seemed to synchronize itself with the throbbing ache in Sergeant Elias Thorne’s left knee. It was a damp, industrial sort of Tuesday, the kind that settled into the bones and stayed there, much like the grey dust that coated the ledges of the precinct. The building itself was a monument to a...
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