The Golden Circuit
The letter is dated October 14th, but the ink is wet. You are sitting in the back of the armored transport, the vibration of the diesel engine rattling your teeth, while the landscape of the Appalachian foothills blurs into a smear of grey and brown. Your hands are steady. They have always been steady, even when the world around you shook. You are a soldier, a man of orders and silence, and you...
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