The Distant Legend
Thorne. The name hung in the sterile air of the housing authority office, spoken by the clerk with the flat, bored tone of a man reading a grocery list. Elias Thorne, forty-two years old and twenty of those spent in the Army, sat on the plastic chair that squeaked under his weight, his hands resting on his knees, rough and cracked from a lifetime of manual labor and military service. He wanted...
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