The Faded River
What is the weight of a word that no one can read? Mohammad Jafari held the quill, but the ink refused to flow. His hands, hollowed by months of thin porridge and cold wind, trembled with a violence that shook the parchment. He was forty-two, a scribe in a city that had forgotten the value of his labor, and the air in the room tasted of rust and old dust. The commission was for Lord Kaveh, a...
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