The Faded Alibi
The transfer packet sat on the desk of Major Halloway, a thin envelope that smelled of stale coffee and bureaucratic indifference, and you, Sergeant Elias Thorne, waited for the stamp that would finally release you from the suffocating humidity of the southern border post. You were thirty-four years old, your uniform pressed but worn at the elbows, your hands trembling slightly not from fear...
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