The Christmas Reckoning: The Fall of the House of Ceaușescu
The humidity in the small, wood-paneled living room in suburban Chicago was thick enough to taste, smelling of stale tea and the faint, clinical sharp of pine-scented cleaner. Outside, the frozen winds of December 1989 rattled the windowpanes, but inside, the atmosphere was far colder. Silas sat in his heavy leather recliner, his massive,…
