The Wistful Petal
Could a woman made of lacquer survive in a world of glass? The banquet hall in the harbor custom house smelled of roasted pork and ozone, the air thick with the humidity that had settled over the Mekong delta for three days straight. Thị Minh stood by the window, her fingers raw from the varnish she had applied to her portfolio cover that morning, watching the fog roll off the river where a...
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