The Wistful Cipher
You have to understand that the sound of the glass breaking was not like the shattering of a mirror or the popping of a champagne cork, but rather a wet, heavy crunch, the kind of sound a bone makes when it gives way under the weight of a body that refuses to fall, and I was standing in the center of the State Security Directorate’s high-ceilinged interrogation room, my hands still trembling...
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