The Distant Affair
Act I Vladimir Harutyunyan was a sexton who sold coffins, and his hands shook with the September frost that had come early, unbidden, to the terraced vineyards of the Armenian mountain town. I had worked for thirty years in the parish records, but I had never seen the ink behave like that. It was a stain on the title page of my wife’s final manuscript, a dark, wet circle that pulsed with a...
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