The Golden Visit
The ledger said forty-two dollars and twelve cents, a sum that felt heavier in your hand than the actual paper currency, each creased bill stained with the grease of the border station’s kitchen and the sweat of your palms as you counted them for the fourth time. You were Elias, a sergeant of the border patrol, thirty-two years old, and your hands shook not from the cold that was beginning to...
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