The Golden Visit
The iron door of the vault did not have a handle, only a heavy ring of oxidized bronze that Elias Thorne had to pull with both hands to break the seal. He was thirty-two years old, a border warden for twenty, and his left knee screamed with a dull, rhythmic throb that matched the beat of his heart. The pension board had denied his claim twice; a broken knee was a common thing in the trade, they...
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