The Golden Harbor
Act I "You’re signing the wrong paper, Rehema," Tadesse said, his voice flat and dry as the dust on the windowsill. "The clearance form is blue. That one is for rejected cargo." Rehema Mushi looked down at the document in his hand, the paper slick with the dampness of the cellar where the meltwater was rising, inch by inch, toward the foundation stones. He was thirty-four years old, a senior...
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