The Faded Guest
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, grey mist that clung to the wool of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s coat. He stood in the center of the intersection, his hands resting on the grip of his sidearm, his breath pluming white in the cold November air. The crowd had dispersed, leaving only the wet asphalt and the faint, coppery smell of blood that had not yet been scrubbed away....
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