This city was more than concrete and steel. It was more than hotels and businesses and bars. It was more than pubs and libraries and concerts. It was more than a car and a basement apartment. It was home. My home. Sweet home Chicago. The people here were my family. They were in danger, and I was part of the reason why. That made things pretty clear. It didn’t matter that I was dead. It didn’t matter that I was literally a shadow of my former self. It didn’t matter that my murderer was still running around somewhere out there, vague prophecies of Captain Murphy notwithstanding. My job hadn’t
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