The Distant Affair
Act I "Can you hear it, Baraka?"‌​⁠⁠‌‌‌​​‌‌​‍⁠​⁠​⁠‌⁠​⁠‍‍⁠‌​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‍​⁠‍‍⁠‌⁠​‌‌‍‍‍‍​⁠‍​‌​​‍‌⁠​⁠​‌‌⁠‌‌‌ The question hung in the damp air of the stable loft, where the smell of wet straw and old wool mixed with the sharper, metallic tang of fear. Baraka Mushi, thirty-two and hollowed out by five years of silent labor, stared at the inlaid gaming board resting on the hay bale between them,...
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