The Faded Portrait
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey curtain that turned the world outside the window of the guardroom into a blurred, indistinct smear of slate and mud, a visual static that matched the static in the head of Sergeant Elias Thorne, who sat on the edge of his bunk, his hands resting on his knees, fingers twitching with a rhythm that had nothing to do with the...
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