The Faded Quadrant
You think the cough is just the dust, Elias. The dust of the archive room settles in your throat like ash. You are forty-two years old. You have served the Border Patrol for nineteen years. You want your name cleared. The file that says you smuggled opium in the coal wagons is false. You know this. The rust taste in your mouth says the lungs are failing, but the file says you are a criminal....
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