After 5 years Fatima hugs her sister Alma under a gray sky.
The wind whips Fatima’s kerchief back forming a mask that matches Alma’s dull stare into the browning field all around.
Alma feels only the roughness of the green blanket wrapping itself around her, sees the small farm in the distance with farmhands loading cattle into the slaughter car and remembers the heifer’s head on the side table amidst the Christmas Day feast.
She is trying not to remember the blood on the floor and in the sink this morning-
trying to find the words to tell Fatima and finding none.
Only sadness and the slaughtering instruments neatly placed on the table fill her mind-
the breakfast egg that filled her hand for a full minute before she cracked it exposing the cooked white she could not eat.
She closed her eyes and thought she prayed In the whirling dark she was naked under the waterfall and Alma, also naked, was waving her to join her on the wooden float in the middle of the lake.
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