The Pale Banner

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2026-08-24 16:52:42 -

The Pale Banner

The clipboard was wet, the laminate slick with condensation that had gathered in the cold of the morning. I held it in my left hand, the paper curling at the edges, while my right hand gripped the strap of my pack until the leather creaked. Twenty years in the Border Patrol, and the paperwork always felt heavier than the rifle. I was forty-two, and my knees ached with a damp, grinding pain that...

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