The Distant Joke
The road out of Naples was not a road so much as a suggestion of one, a ribbon of packed mud that dissolved into the scrubland where the dry wind split the citrus fruit open before it reached the ground. Angelina Bellini sat in the sidecar of the postal motorcycle, her knees pressed tight against the metal fairing, her eyes fixed on the dust cloud kicking up behind them. The vibration of the...
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