The Distant Promise
Ramon Vargas, fifty years old and the senior surveyor of the Andalusian olive belt, packed the theodolite and the brass plumb bob into the canvas case, the leather straps biting into his wrist as he shouldered the weight of a decade’s work. The sirocco had blown for three days, drying the throat and cracking the earth, and the air in the tithe barn smelled of dust and stale grain, a physical...
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