The Golden Crossing
The rain had been falling for three days, a constant, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the city into a watercolor smear of concrete and neon. I sat in the back of the cruiser, the leather seat cold against my spine, watching the wipers beat a rhythmic, futile time against the glass. My hands were cuffed in the front console, the plastic tight against my wrists. I had done this before,...
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