Over the next two weeks, Sally listened to most of the girl’s tales. Malila needed the chance to say all the words left unsaid from her trip, her capture, and, maybe, her entire life, Sally thought. Malila retold her solitary memories of early childhood: a soft-bodied woman; a tall, thin man with spectacles; and the windblown clapboard house on a hill against an empty gray sky as it disappeared in the rear window of a government skimmer. She talked about her hopes, her patrons, and her return to the Unity.
Sally asked questions about the things she could not know and kept from her face the reaction to what the answers revealed. Some things she would never fathom. The patrons, whom Malila discussed so openly, filled her with outrage, showin...
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