The Golden Suspect
The key is rusted. You know this because you have held it for three days. The metal bites into your palm, a cold, jagged thing. It is the only thing you own that is not broken. You are standing in the mud of the yard. The rain has stopped but the air still smells of wet earth and diesel. This is the life of a man who has been erased. You are Sergeant Elias Thorne. Or you were. Now you are just...
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