The Pale Bridge
Act I "You are not the keeper of the ledger, Emine. You are merely the one who holds the pen." The magistrate’s voice was dry, like the dust that settled on the windowsills of the municipal office, a fine gray powder that coated everything it touched. Emine Yildirim stood in the center of the room, her hands clasped tightly behind her back, the knuckles white against the dark wool of her coat....
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