Ill-Fated
My name is perhaps Reza, or perhaps Mohammad. Call me Mohammad Reza, it’ll do. My trade and occupation is business, not commerce exactly; well, let both of them go to the devil.
My name is perhaps Reza, or perhaps Mohammad. Call me Mohammad Reza, it’ll do. My trade and occupation is business, not commerce exactly; well, let both of them go to the devil.
The man woke still heavy with fatigue. He yawned, stretched, and thumped his clenched fists against his chest. The walls of his small room appeared to have edged closer overnight, as though the space were
he man grabbed the woman just as she was taking off her headscarf because of the heat. The woman, panicked and tucked her bag tightly under her arm, struggling to slip away from the man’s
A teenage girl had fallen into a wide ditch, her forearm and cheek shattered. It was clear that the bone in her right forearm had shifted beneath her dark blue manteau, with blood seeping through