The Wistful Voyage
The transfer request had been pending for forty-seven days, a number Elias Thorne counted every morning by the way the dust motes drifted in the single beam of sunlight that pierced the outpost’s window. He measured his life in these increments now, in the slow accumulation of paper and silence, while the desert wind outside scoured the corrugated tin roof with a sound like sandpaper on rust....
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