The Wistful Dinner
Chapter One Katya Fedorov sat at the table in the airport hotel bar, her hands wrapped around a glass of water that had long since gone warm, and she knew with the certainty of a woman who has counted her own breaths for forty-five years that she was not alone. The room was stifling, the air heavy with stale coffee and the ozone tang of the heatwave that had locked St Petersburg in a vice,...
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