The Golden Ritual
"Your hands are not clean enough, Chinedu." Master Osei’s voice was dry, like the rustle of dried maize husks in the wind. I stood before the desk in the telephone exchange, the air thick with the ozone smell of the lines and the heat that pressed against the glass of the old quarters. I was twelve years old, small for my age, and my fingers trembled so violently that the ink on the ledger...
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