The Pale Banner
The tin weighed four ounces. Elias Thorne held it in his left hand, feeling the cold metal bite into the calluses of his palm, and counted the minutes until the Union Hall doors opened. It was November, 1912, and the air in Blackwood City tasted of sulfur and wet ash. He had walked six miles from the barracks, his boots heavy with the slush that had accumulated over the night. The tin contained...
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