The Wistful Witness
The highland wind tore at the shallow roofs of the market town, a constant, physical fact that stripped the slate hills of their dignity before the sun even cleared the ridge, while below, the industry of the border vet’s office hummed with the low, electric buzz of a typing pool where carbon copies of livestock inspections were stacked like bricks. Mwanaidi Abebe stood by the window, his eye...
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