The Faded Photograph

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 03:36:18 -

The bullet hole was in the drywall. Not the window. Not the door. The drywall. I stood there. Hands steady. Breathing controlled. The room smelled of dust and old paper. My partner, Miller, was behind me. He was shaking. Not from cold. From fear. “Stay back,” I said. My voice was flat. Professional. “I’m okay, Dan,” Miller whispered. “I’m okay.” He wasn’t okay. He was a man who had served ten...

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