The Pale Bridge
The goblet was heavy, heavier than the wine it held, and Stavros Theodorou gripped the stem until his knuckles turned the color of old bone, the tremor in his hands a secret betrayal he could no longer hide behind the smooth veneer of his fifty-two years. Act I‌​⁠⁠‌‌‌​​‌⁠‍‍‍‍⁠‌‌‍‍‍⁠⁠⁠⁠​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‌⁠‌‍‍​​​⁠⁠‌‍‍‍‍​⁠​⁠​‍‌⁠‍‍‌‌⁠​‌‍‌⁠​ "You are certain of this, Stavros?" asked Nikos, the senior...
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