The Faded Photograph
The glass was cracked. A spiderweb of fissures radiated from the bottom left corner, a fracture so fine it was nearly invisible until the light caught it just right. Elias held the frame in his hands, his fingers trembling not from cold, but from the sheer weight of what he knew. The object was a standard 4x6, silver-backed, the edges worn to a soft, dangerous white. It was an artifact. A piece...
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