The Faded Road
Act I "You’re counting them again," Andrei Sokolov said, not opening his eyes. The heat in the room was a physical weight, pressing the air out of his lungs, making the noon impossible to endure. He had woken from the dream where his mother’s voice, dry as old parchment, had counted down the days remaining to him. Three days left. Two days left. One day left. He sat up, the sheets tangling...
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