The Distant Affair
The port of Shimonoseki churned with the grey sludge of industry, a place where the air tasted of rust and wet wool, and where men worked until their hands bled before they dared to dream of rest. Hina Matsumoto stood at the end of the queue, his uniform damp with the cold that seeped up from the harbor floor, watching the other men shuffle forward toward the clinic. He was thirty-two, a border...
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