The Faded Alibi
The coat hangs on the hook by the door, its wool thick and dark, smelling of damp earth and iron, a silent witness to the hours you have spent standing in the rain outside the precinct, watching the windows flicker with the cold blue light of interrogation. You are a man who has worn many uniforms, but the one you wear now is made of skin and bone, and it is soaked through to the bone, a...
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