The Golden Mirror
The rain did not fall. It hung. A gray curtain drawn tight against the windows of the precinct. It was a suffocating stillness, broken only by the hum of the ventilation system. Detective Elias Thorne sat in the back of the interrogation room. He did not look at the man in the chair. He looked at the glass. His reflection stared back, pale and hollow-eyed. A ghost in a cheap suit. "You’re not a...
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