The Faded Photograph
The rain hammered against the reinforced glass of the safe room, a relentless, deafening drumroll that matched the pounding in my temples, as I stared down the barrel of a Glock nineteen held by a man who used to be my best friend. David’s hand was shaking, just a tremor, barely perceptible, but enough to make the crosshairs dance over my chest like a erratic heart monitor, and I knew that if...
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