The Faded Frontier
The fluorescent tube above the desk flickered, a sickly yellow buzz that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Elias Thorne’s teeth. He sat in the basement office of St. Jude’s Correctional Facility, the linoleum floor peeling at the edges where the damp crept in from the foundation. His skin, mapped with the premature wrinkles of a man who had aged thirty years in the last decade, peeled back...
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