reply

How much time would it take, she often countered. She had left eight years ago. She wanted to see them, wanted them to see her three year old daughter, wanted them to see her happiness, to know that it was possible,
that she was proof. Here in the heart of her childhood she gave gifts to her
in-laws, hoping her brothers might come, wanting to welcome them like rain
after the earth was parched and cracked. When they broke through the door
with their fists, she rose with their names, and the names with them, splashed with gasoline, consumed.