The Faded Photograph
The room smells of wet wool and iron. You sit in the plastic chair. The chair squeaks. It is a small sound. It cuts the silence. You are a soldier. You have been a soldier for ten years. Your hands are still. Your hands do not shake. You look at the man across from you. He is an officer. He is older. His hair is gray. He looks at you. His eyes are cold. He does not blink. Who did this, Thomas?...
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