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Morozov stood by the window, smoking, gazing out in the hope of seeing at least some sign of human life. He thought about Mei Lin. About how she stood in the wasteland, didn’t turn around, didn’t say goodbye, only said: “I will walk from here.” Would he ever see her again? Unlikely. Persona non grata — that was what his status was called now. What a word, he thought, like a brand on the forehead. Persona non grata. Even sounds un-Russian. An expellee →