The Faded Guest
The soup was thin. It sat in a tin cup, trembling in the cold air of the cellar. Sergeant Elias Thorne stared at it. The liquid was a murky gray, barely distinguishable from the water used to boil it. There was no meat. There was no vegetable. Only the promise of warmth that the broth refused to keep. He lifted the cup. His hands shook. Not from fear. From the cold. The cellar was deep beneath...
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