The Golden Circuit
The ink on the ledger page had not dried when I counted the hours left in my shift, three, two, one, and the weight of the pen felt heavier than the law book it rested against. I am writing this from the cold stone desk of the Oakhaven Sheriff’s office, the draught from the window rattling the filing cabinets with a sound like dry bones knocking together, and I need you to understand that my...
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