The Faded Photograph
The gate is rusted, the hinges screaming a low, metallic groan against the October wind. You stand before it, Elias Thorne, thirty-four, a border patrol agent with a career that ended three hours ago. You want to clear your name, to prove that the man you held down was not a threat but a frightened child, and that the bruise on his cheek was a result of his own fall, not your fist. The opposing...
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