The Pale Meridian
The rain fell in sheets, gray and relentless, blurring the edges of the city into a smear of wet stone and neon. I stood on the balcony, the metal railing cold against my palms, watching the streetlights flicker in the downpour. My uniform was soaked, the wool heavy and dark, clinging to my shoulders like a shroud. I had just left the precinct. The file was closed. Or so they said. Inside, the...
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