The Faded Apartment
Act I Young-ho Song’s hands were already shaking as he reached for the crystal decanter, the glass cold and slick under his sweating palms. He stood at the center of the banquet hall, the air heavy with roasted pork and stale cigarette smoke, his uniform pressed tight against a chest that heaved with the effort of breathing. The senior officers sat in a semicircle, their plates bare, their eyes...
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