The Wistful Letter
Outposts on the coast are built to be forgotten. Mzee Adan sat in the quarantine hut, the dry thunder of the wind rattling the shutters, and wrote the first of the letters that would unravel his life. He was forty-two, a man whose hands still remembered the weight of the toll ledger, though the ship had been lost and the insurance refused three years prior. He needed his son, Kofi, to return...
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