The Wistful Atlas

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2026-08-23 21:41:11 -

The Wistful Atlas

"Stay your hand, Sergeant. The order stands." Colonel Halloway did not raise his voice, which was worse than if he had shouted. He stood in the doorway of my office, the late afternoon light catching the gray dust motes that swirled in the air, and he held a map that looked like it had been soaked in ink and dried in the sun. I was twenty-four years old, a border patrol officer for three years,...

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