The Faded Apartment
The brass badge sat in Elias’s palm, cold and heavy, its edges worn smooth by three years of pocket friction. He turned it over, watching the oak leaf emblem catch the gray light from the window, before sliding it into the top drawer of his desk. The drawer held a box of spare handcuffs, a stack of unpaid invoices for the department’s broken printer, and a photo of Clara from their father’s...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews