The Distant Affair
Act I "You’re dead, Enzo, and you know it," the man said, spitting onto the wet cobblestones. Enzo Caruso did not look up. He was counting the stones in the path, his fingers numb from the cold, the ledger of debts clutched so tightly in his left hand that the paper had begun to tear. The courtyard of the Caruso estate smelled of wet iron and rotting barley, the air thick with the metallic tang...
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