The Wistful Atlas
I. "You are forgetting your place, Thị Hang," Minister Dao said, his voice low and flat as the surface of the Mekong delta at high tide. I looked down at the ledger. The ink on the page for the Nguyen family was wet, spreading in a dark, oily bloom that refused to dry, staining the fiber of the paper with a sluggish, black hunger. It was the third time this week the records for the condemned...
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