The Faded Guest
The glass did not shatter; it exploded. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the mud of the Blackwood mill district, the water of the river seeping through the soles of his boots, his uniform heavy with the rain that had fallen for three days straight. He was forty-two years old, a man whose spine had been straightened by twenty years of service, and he watched the front window of the Vane Textile...
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