The Faded Photograph
The fog pressed against the glass. Thick. Gray. Alive. It moved like a lung. Breathing in. Breathing out. Edward stood alone. The room was cold. He wore his dress blues. The brass buttons caught the dim light. They shone. Dull. Dead. He checked his watch. Ten o’clock. The ship was coming. The *HMS Acheron*. A ghost ship. Or so they said. The superiors had orders. Meet the captain. Inspect the...
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