The Wistful Mirror
Chapter One The lorry reversed in a low, endless groan, a sound that had been haunting the gali since the flood-control channel dried up three winters ago. It was the sound of the city grinding its teeth, a mechanical complaint that settled into the bones of the old brickwork. Rabia Swati stood in the doorway of the customs shed, her hand resting on the cold steel of the doorframe, listening to...
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