The Wistful Throne
Olumide Agyapong’s hands shook as he tightened the final bolt on the rebar cage, the steel groaning under the torque of his wrench. The air in the Johannesburg township site office hung heavy with the dust of dry earth and the metallic tang of fresh concrete, a scent that coated the back of his throat like rust. He was thirty-four years old, and the weight of the Wistful Throne project, a...
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