The Faded Frontier
The notification from the Bureau of Border Integrity sat on the wet pavement, its paper soft and gray from the November rain, and Elias Thorne read the words *Immediate Suspension Pending Review* three times before the ink blurred into a smear of bureaucratic indifference. He did not fold it; he let it lie there, a dead leaf among the puddles that reflected the neon bleed of the city’s lower...
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