The Wistful Asylum
The rain in Seattle does not fall so much as it accumulates, a slow, gray suspension that settles into the pores of the city until you feel the dampness in your teeth. I had been tracing the ink for three weeks, a job that smelled of stale coffee and despair, when I finally found the name that made my hands shake. It was not a person’s name, but a place. The Halloway Clinic. And it was not a...
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