The Distant Promise
The letter lay on the kitchen table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air. It was thick, heavy stock, the kind used for official rejections from the Department of Border Protection. Elias Thorne picked it up, the paper feeling cold and brittle in his palm. He read the first line, then the second, and the words blurred into a meaningless gray smear. Psychological volatility. The phrase sat...
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