The Faded Paradox
The rain had not stopped for three days, and it was a cold, relentless kind of water that did not wash things clean but merely made the grime slicker and harder to grip. You were sitting in the corner of the precinct, a chair that had lost its cushioning years ago, your boots off, your socks damp, and the only thing in your mind was the left side of your face. It throbbed in a rhythm that...
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