The Faded Photograph
The incident report lay on the steel desk, its corners soft from the humidity of the morning, the ink of my signature still slightly tacky under my thumb. I had written it with the care of a man trying to keep a house from falling, detailing the trajectory of the suspect, the angle of the treeline, the specific gap in the wire fencing that the algorithmic overlay had failed to flag. It was a...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews