The Faded Paradox
Thorne, you’re bleeding on the pavement. The voice came from above, distorted by the rain and the sheer height of the alley, but I recognized the cadence of Sergeant Miller’s irritation. I looked up. Miller was leaning against the fire escape, his flashlight cutting a pale cone through the mist, illuminating the wet brick and the black, viscous fluid oozing from the crack in the boundary wall...
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