The Faded Sutra
My hands were shaking as I uncapped the marker, the cap clicking against the metal rim of the pen holder with a sound that seemed too loud in the quiet of the back office. I was here to audit the books, to find the ledger that Director Vance claimed had been lost in the flood of ’99, but the air in the Po valley flatlands was heavy with wet rice and old paper, and I felt the weight of the task...
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