The Pale Letter
The rain in the city does not wash things clean; it only makes the grime slicker. You stand at the gate of the St. Jude’s Facility for the Criminally Insane, your uniform soaked through, the cold seeping into the joints of your knees. You are here to sign the release papers for Mara. She is twenty-six, three years younger than you, and she has been held for forty days on a Section 4 order. Her...
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