The Wistful Mirror
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain of static that blurred the edge of the highway and the treeline beyond. Elias Thorne sat in the driver’s seat of the patrol car, the engine ticking as it cooled, a small, metallic heartbeat in the damp silence. His hands rested on the steering wheel, palms slick with sweat despite the chill that seeped through the leather. He had been...
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