The Distant Threshold
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended gray mist that turned the air inside the precinct into a thick, breathing entity. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the interrogation room, his back to the door, watching the water drip from the tip of a single, wilting fern that someone had placed in a corner, a gesture of bureaucratic comfort that now seemed like a cruel joke. The...
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