The Distant Summer
The clipboard in your hands weighs nothing, yet it feels like a slab of wet concrete. You stare at the transfer form, the ink still dry, your name Elias Thorne printed in stark black type, and the date of your intended move to the administrative wing circled in red. You are thirty-four, a senior corrections officer at Blackwood Penitentiary, and you want this transfer secured by the end of the...
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