The Distant Journey
"The metal is dead, Mr. Thorne. It has no life left to hold." Elias Thorne set the iron disc on the velvet counter. It was lighter than it had been that morning, a fact that defied the logic of physics and the comfort of routine. He watched the jeweler, a man with steady hands and tired eyes, turn the badge over. The engravings of the Border Patrol seal, once sharp enough to cut, were now...
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