The Distant Wound
Chapter One Selam Omar stood before the foreman, the soot of the highlands drying in the creases of his knuckles, his hand trembling not from fear but from the sheer, grinding weight of the ledger in the man’s other hand. The factory floor was a sealed throat of iron and steam, the air so heavy with hot oil and wet wool that it felt like breathing through a damp rag, a physical fact of their...
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