Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Thousand: Six Hundred Ninety-Four

thunderous rattle. The eldest woman says, “The gate is open.” Three of the others leap up and begin gathering the emptied plates and soiled napkins. The spread is quickly whisked away, the cloth on which it was laid out also rolled up and carried off. “The gate to the city,” the girl says, looking again at the line of people winding down from the city wall. “Why isn’t the line moving if the gate is open?” “Only a few are allowed to enter,” the old woman replies. “Do you have to have an appointment?” “Yes,” the woman returns. “It is not

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