The Wistful Saga
Act I Ricardo Bautista’s hands were stained with the black grease of the filing cabinet when he lifted the champagne flute, the forty-seven of the Tannery Steps echoing in his memory as he counted the men around the table. The banquet hall smelled of roasted pork and stale sweat, the air thick with the humidity that seeped through the corrugated iron roof of the estero district, a dry thunder...
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