The Pale Shadows
The glass was cold. Marcus held it in his left hand, the rim digging into his palm. It was a standard issue tumbler, thick bottom, slightly chipped at the base. He had carried it for three days. Three days in the white van. Three days of silence from the dispatch center. The rain hit the windshield in sheets. Grey. Indifferent. It blurred the road ahead into a smear of mud and asphalt. Marcus...
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