The Faded Shield
The chipped rim of the ceramic mug bites into your thumb. You turn it, feeling the rough edge of the fracture against your skin. It is a small, jagged thing, a flaw in the glaze that has been there for six years, ever since you dropped it on the concrete floor of the station house in Tucson. You wrap both hands around it now, the heat seeping into your cold palms. It is the only warm thing in...
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