The Wistful Letter
Chapter One Do you think a hand can lie? I asked the clerk, who was bent over the ledger, his quill scratching against the paper with a sound like dry leaves skittering on stone. He did not look up. He was a small man, Sato Kenji, who worked for the mine office and bent the rules once a year for those who paid in kind. I had paid. I had paid the tithe in dye-stained cloth, heavy and wet,...
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