Ace was sitting in the little box of the police interview room, had been for two hours, alternating between staring blankly and drowsing off. They’d let him clean up after taking a bunch of pictures, found him a fresh t-shirt with ‘No Pain, No Gain’ printed in blocky letters. He’d idly wondered if it was some cosmic force trying to tell him something …
© 2024 H. B. Butler
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