The Wistful Incense
Act I "Put it down, Esperanza. You’re going to break it." The coil of Wistful Incense lay in the palm of her hand, fragile as a dried leaf, yet it hummed with a low, subsonic vibration that rattled the teeth in her jaw. She was forty-two, a scholar of liturgy who had spent more years studying the weight of souls than she had spent living her own, and the student debt from her graduate program...
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