The Faded Portrait
The letter lay on the steel table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air. It was a standard form, beige and brittle, stamped with the seal of the Border Patrol Service. You read it twice. The first time for the words. The second time for the signature. Major Halloway’s name was printed in block capitals, but the ink was smudged, a dark smear across the bottom right corner. You wanted your...
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