The Wistful Witness
Chapter One Osman Ozkan woke with the taste of chalk dust in his mouth, a dry, gritty film that coated his tongue like a bad aftertaste. He was forty-two, a master seal-carver in a town that smelled of wet wool and coal, and he needed one more perfect seal to secure his pension before the winter set in. The dream had been simple, just his late wife’s hand, cold and still, resting on the stone...
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