|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedablkog

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quickly through the darknesslike an insect following a chemical trail. She knew the
path to the river as well as her children did and could have found her way there blind-
folded. She didn’t know what it was that made her hurry through the undergrowth.
That turned her walk into a run. That made her arrive on the banks of the Meenachal
breathless. Sobbing. As though she was late for something. As though her life de-
pended on getting there in time. As though she knew he would be
there. Waiting. As though be knew she would come. He did. Know. That knowl-
edge had slid into him that afternoon. Cleanly. Like the sharp edge of a knife. When
history had slipped up. While he had held her little daughter in his arms. When her
eyes had told him he was not the only giver of gifts. That she had gifts to give him
toothat in return for his boatshis boxeshis small windmillsshe would trade her
deep dimples when she smiled. Her smooth brown skin. Her shining shoulders. Her
eyes that were always somewhere else. He wasn’t there. Ammu sat on the stone steps
that led to the water. She buried her head in her armsfeeling foolish for having been
so sure. So certain . Farther downstream in the middle of the riverVelutha floated
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On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabljfm