The Wistful Voyage
The requisition form lay on the mahogany desk, its edges curling slightly in the damp air of the study, and Captain Elias Thorne held his pen above the line for signature, the nib hovering in a stillness that felt less like hesitation and more like the suspension of a held breath. He was a man of forty years, his uniform pressed to a severity that mirrored the rigid lines of his jaw, and he...
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