The Golden Harbor
The rain hit the asphalt in sheets. Gray. Cold. Unending. Elias stood on the roof. His uniform was soaked. The fabric clung to his ribs. He watched the city below. Neon lights blurred in the water. Red. Blue. Yellow. The grid of streets. The hum of traffic. A distant siren. It sounded like a scream. Then it faded. Elias was a cop. Senior. Twenty years on the force. He had held the line. He had...
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