The Distant Clue
Act I Joon-young Jung hauled the crate of censored postcards across the floor, his boots scraping against the warped wood of the boarding house. The rubber station had auctioned off his father’s farm, and now the neighbors bid for the last of the grain, their voices sharp as the guillotine of the tobacco cutter that hung in the corner. He was thirty-four, a border patrol officer with a record...
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