The Faded Dust
The rain had turned the gravel of the county sheriff’s yard into a slick, gray mirror, reflecting the sterile fluorescent hum of the station house. You stood beneath the overhang, your hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago. The steam had long since vanished, leaving only a bitter ring of tannin on your lips. You were a man who had spent twenty years in the quiet...
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