The Faded River
The requisition form lay on the kitchen table, the paper yellowed and soft at the edges where Elias’s thumb had rubbed it into a pulp. It listed the final quota of river-moss required for the border patrol’s medical reserve, a figure that had not changed in three decades, a number that weighed more than the iron keys in his pocket. He signed it with a shaky hand, the ink bleeding slightly into...
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