The Faded Photograph
The order was typed on thick, cream-colored paper, the ink still wet and smelling faintly of iron and dust. It was a simple directive, numbered 44-B, instructing Sergeant Elias Thorne to lead a detachment across the sector at dawn to secure the bridge at the riverbank. The paper was smooth under his thumb, a stark contrast to the rough, splintered wood of the trench wall he leaned against. I...
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