The Wistful Campus
The memo was printed on cheap, cream-colored stock, the kind that felt dry and brittle between your fingers, like a dead leaf that had been pressed flat in a file drawer. It bore the seal of the Department of Border Integrity, a circular logo stamped in faded blue ink, and the header read: NOTICE OF PERFORMANCE REVIEW. You, Elias Thorne, thirty-four, a border patrol agent with twelve years of...
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