The Distant Threshold
The cypress swamp stretched along the Chao Phraya, its tea-colored water lapping against the pilings of the dockside mission where the morning fog had not yet lifted. Narong Rattanakosin stood at the edge of the division point, his back aching with the particular, grinding pain of a stevedore who had sold his patent for a pittance, watching the men argue over the fence line where the neighbor’s...
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