The Distant Affair
The fire does not begin with a spark but with the sudden, violent exhalation of the city’s own breath, a gust of wind that smells of sulfur and wet ash sweeping through the narrow, cobblestone arteries of the old town where the light of the sun has not touched the ground for three days. You are small in this vast, trembling dark, a child of no more than ten years, your hands pressed tight...
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