It was a stifling afternoon in the village. I—Hanh—was kneeling in the yard, gathering dry branches to light the cooking fire. From the doorway, my ten-year-old son stood watching me, his wide, innocent eyes following every one of my movements, as if the whole universe were contained in this moment of silence, between…
Three large black sedans slowly moved along the muddy road. “Whose cars are these?” Mrs. Nguyen asked. “Officials? Did someone important die?” They stopped… in front of my house. My heart leapt. Taxes? An old debt? Minh appeared, rubbing his eyes. “Mom, whose is it?” “I don’t know, sweetheart.” A chauffeur in a suit opened […]
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