The Wistful Atlas
Chapter One Kourosh Ahmadi owed forty dinars for the timber he had cut last winter, a debt that sat heavy in his chest like a stone. He stood at the edge of the rendering plant, the rain slicking the coaching road, and watched his apprentice, Davoud, load the last of the chisels onto the cart. Davoud was young, his hands still soft from the loom, and he looked back at Kourosh with a mixture of...
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