The Faded Photograph
The ledger held by Colonel Vance was a thing of cold, precise arithmetic, where every hour of service was weighed against the cost of bread, and every debt was a stone that grew heavier with the passing of days. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the office, his fingers tracing the grain of the wooden table, counting the seconds until the clock above the mantel would strike the hour that allowed...
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