The Wistful Skyline
Ivana Adamyan had been cleaning the soot from the clay molds for eleven years, a task that required her to press her thumb into the wet earth until the grit bit into the skin, and in the wet snow that fell too heavy for the lines of the valley, she knew that the annual review was not a celebration but a countdown. The workshop loft was sealed against the wind, the air thick with the metallic...
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