The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 20:08:58 -

March 14, 1998. “Edgar.” The voice came from the doorway of the Records Room, sharp and thin as a wire. It was Halloway. He stood there, holding a stack of files, his face a mask of bureaucratic indifference that cost him nothing and saved him everything. I looked up from the desk. The fluorescent lights buzzed, a low, constant drone that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. I wanted to speak, to...

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