The Golden Crossing
The suspension order was typed on heavy, cream-colored stock, the ink slightly smudged where the typist’s thumb had slipped. I signed it with a hand that trembled less than I expected, the pen scratching a final, jagged line that felt like a tear in the paper itself. Colonel Halloway stood by the window, his back to me, watching the rain streak the glass of the Bureau’s third-floor office. He...
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