The Wistful Witness
The letter lay on the desk of Lieutenant Colonel Halloway, its edges curling slightly in the damp air of the garrison office, a formal request for the return of a silver locket confiscated as contraband. Elias Thorne had written it in a hand that trembled only at the ends of the lines, a subtle betrayal of the steadiness the army demanded of its men. He stood in the doorway, his uniform pressed...
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