The Faded River
The brass plate on the door of the sub-basement office was not merely tarnished; it was actively eroding, the letters of my name, Major Elias Thorne, dissolving into a fine, metallic powder that drifted onto the linoleum floor like rust-colored snow. I sat behind the desk, a piece of heavy oak that groaned under the weight of the files stacked before me, files that contained no paper, only the...
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