The Open Grave
Yoysef Smolazh
1937
Crowds of people had been gathering since dawn at the morgue next to the city hospital. Drowsy, shivering, in damp gray clothes, they warmed themselves by huddling in one another’s breath. Their faces were remote and gloomy, their lips pressed together in harsh sorrow, their eyes blinked naively and awkwardly. A damp autumn fog shrouded these…
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