The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 09:00:34 -

"You’re a ghost, James." I don’t flinch. I keep my eyes on the rain streaking down the window of the interrogation room. The glass is cold. My breath fogs it, a small cloud that vanishes too fast. "Look at me," Sergeant Miller says. He is a large man, built like a brick wall with no mortar. His uniform is pressed sharp. It smells of starch and coffee. He leans forward. The chair squeaks. "I’m...

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