The Pale Banner
The left hand of Elias Thorne had begun to lose its memory of the world three weeks prior, a creeping numbness that started at the fingertips and crawled inward like frost on glass, defying the cold that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. He sat in the cramped office of the Regional Surveyor, the air thick with the scent of old paper and pipe tobacco, and watched the Governor,...
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