The Faded Frontier
Act I The iron was heavier than the paper said, and the paper was heavier than the truth. I woke with the taste of rust on my tongue, that metallic tang that clings to the back of the throat long after the dream fades, a recurring nightmare of a seal so old it had forgotten its own name. I am Hillechien van Leeuwen, forty-five years old, a border inspector whose pension hangs on the...
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