The Distant Garden
Chapter One In the sertão, a coat is a ledger of what one has lost. Marisol Macías stood in the center of the dining room, the frayed wool of her grandmother’s garment heavy against her twelve-year-old frame, while the dry wind cracked the clay floor beneath the floorboards. The house was full of noise, a cacophony of silverware and judgment that drowned out the dogs mapping the neighborhood...
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