The Faded Frontier
The ink on the Frontier Ledger was not merely fading; it was retreating, as if the words were alive and pulling back into the fiber of the paper to escape the light. I adjusted my spectacles, the glass thick and heavy against my eyes, and watched the entry for the year 1892 dissolve into a gray smudge, the figures for the grain shipments becoming illegible ghosts on the page. I am Elias Thorne,...
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