The Wistful Letter
Johannesburg’s twilight bled into the industrial sprawl of the township, where the airlock maintenance crews worked in shifts that blurred day into a continuous, soot-stained night. The docks at first light were already humming with the mechanical groan of cargo lifts, a sound that vibrated in the teeth of every worker who lived within earshot. Abena Darko, thirty-two and junior archivist for...
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