The Faded Photograph
The iron key in Elias Thorne’s hand weighed more than it should have, a cold, heavy thing that felt like a piece of the bar itself, and he turned it slowly, feeling the resistance of the lock before the mechanism gave way with a dull, final click. The door to Major Halloway’s office swung open on hinges that had not been oiled in years, releasing a breath of stale air that smelled of tobacco...
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