The Pale Garden
Chapter One "You have sold the map," Bayani said, his voice flat, cutting through the damp air of the bed-sit. He stood before Mateo, who hunched over the single hot plate, the ledger open between them. The page was stained with salt and ink, showing two distinct handwritings: Bayani’s sharp, angular script and Mateo’s looping, careless scrawl. The map of the rerouted road lay on the floor, its...
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