Abstract

"When his former driver, Firash, entered his office, the aid worker glanced up from his desk and the drought report he had been reading, his face wreathed in sweat from an unrelentingly hot summer afternoon, did a double-take, and then collected himself and stood, his look of surprise spreading into a forced smile; he stuck out his right hand, and Firash, with his own tight smile, shook it. Then he bowed, placing his right hand over his heart. The aid worker did the same. […]"

Full Text
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