The Faded Photograph
"You’re not coming back to this sector, Thorne. The file says you’re unstable." Elias Thorne stood in the center of the parlor, the letter from Regional Command still warm in his hand, the paper soft and yielding like wet cloth. The house groaned around him, a low, tectonic shudder that traveled up through the floorboards and into the soles of his boots. He was thirty-four years old, a border...
0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews