The Golden Downtown
The letter lay on the desk, the edges soft from being folded and unfolded too many times. Elias Thorne held it in his left hand, the paper damp with the sweat of his palm, while his right hand gripped the edge of the mahogany surface to keep from slipping. It was a standard form, printed on the heavy, cream-colored stock the department used for commendations, but the words inside were a...
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