The Faded Photograph
My hand was shaking as I tried to steady the pen, the ink blotting on the form for the second time. The fluorescent light above my desk buzzed, a low, electric drone that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my left palm. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, a Border Patrol agent in the sector of El Paso, and I have spent the last three months trying to convince the department that I am not...
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