The Wistful Dinner
The light had not yet reached the thirty-one of the Amber Stair when Dong Lin’s hands began to tremble, a vibration that started in the fingertips and traveled up the radius bone, a physical fact that preceded the understanding of what was happening to him. He stood on the terrace of the observatory, the air heavy with ozone and old ink, looking at the celestial chart spread before him, the...
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