We will beg our bread and our shelter, and our passage on a boat. “You don’t want to go?” “No. She pulled a few strands of her hair from her head to leave with Michelle’s. The twins weren’t far behind, they got put into the psych ward too. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. ’ The fury welled.
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