The Wistful Atlas
Chapter One Manette Fontenot’s left hand was already broken when the beam fell, the sound of it a dull, wet crack that echoed off the tin roof of the administrative annex. He was pulling his sister Elise back from the state security men who had her by the hair, their boots muddied with the January thaw that had turned the cane rows into a sucking sludge. The beam, a piece of the ship’s chart...
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