The Golden Scar
The key is in my pocket, heavy as a stone, and I am shaking, which is not a good sign for a man who has to be steady enough to cut his own flesh. "You cannot go in there, Tariq," Lina said, her voice thin, stripped of the playful cadence she used when we were children stealing walnuts from the groves outside the quarantine line. "The Director has sealed it. He has the authority. You know the...
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