The Distant Affair
Thorne. The name was spoken by the wind, or perhaps by the ghost of a shout that had died three days ago, echoing off the basalt spires of the high desert. You stood in the snow, the cold biting through your wool coat, your breath a white plume that hung in the stillness before dissolving. You were Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, a border patrol officer with four years of service and a debt...
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