Mar/Apr 2021 • Vol. XLIII No. 2 FictionMarch 1, 2021 |

Birdlime

After a very long time, so long he’d grown more bitter, he saw her again. She was not weak, nor were her eyes yellow. She was bright and alive, the way she had once been. She stood pointing at a bird flying above, saying something he could not fully understand. “I . . . it . . . can . . . and fly . . . before resting.” Only her voice was different, ebbing and flowing — this time loud, this time low. He could not tell why. She summoned the bird out of the big, clear sky. It came, sailing smoothly through the slow thermal and landed in her hand. Her eyes lit up with joy, and he tooted in jubilation. For days, he was not sad. He played with Abayo, his younger brother. No complaint returned with him from school — and, without having to be compelled, he washed his plates after eating. He began going to the newly built Don Bosco Centre in Araromi to play after school, joining the lessons taught by white nuns from Rome. Then, toward the end of that week, while playing L

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By Winona León

After a very long time, so long he’d grown more bitter, he saw her again. She was not weak, nor were her eyes yellow. She was bright and alive, the […]

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