The Distant Joke
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the gravel lot of the Department of Public Safety into a sucking, muddy morass, and I stood there with my duffel bag over my shoulder, watching the steam rise off the asphalt in thin, ghostly ribbons that curled and dissipated before they could even reach the window of the precinct, feeling the weight of my uniform...
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