21.12.2025, 20:20
Amirkhan Mousavi loved this time of year. In the twilight, the city seemed like a set for a play that had long been removed from the repertoire, and it was easier to breathe in this emptiness. Since Rustam Yezdi’s death, his own house had turned into the same kind of set. Zahra, his wife, had become like a locked room: the façade remained the same, but the windows were tightly curtained, and no one, not even he
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