The Golden Farce
The night shift at the Palace of the Third Generation was a test of endurance, and Kwame Asante, thirty-two, had passed every one until the peacock arrived. I had served under Captain Adu for six years, a tenure measured not in days but in the slow, grinding wear of my knees against the cold stone of the terraced hills that bordered the colony. We were the guardians of the charter, a document...
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