I leaned my head against Pinkie’s heart and watched the cloud drift away.
“I never mistreated him...” Then I turned my face and pressed it against Pinkie’s branch.
“Sweetie.” “What?” “Is it wrong for me to cry?” “It’s never wrong to cry, silly. Why?”
“I don’t know, I’m still not used to it. It feels like my cage inside is too empty now.”
Glória woke me up early. “Show me your fingernails.”
I showed her my hands and she approved them. “Now your ears. Ew, Zezé!”
She took me to the washtub, wet a cloth with soap on it and rubbed off the filth.
“I’ve never seen someone who claims to be an Apinajé warrior who’s always dirty!
Go get your shoes on while I find some decent clothes for you to wear.”
She went to my drawer and rummaged around. And she rummaged around some more.
And the more she rummaged, the less she found. All my trousers had holes in them, or were torn, patched or darned.
“You don’t need to say a thing. If anyone ever saw this drawer, they’d know what a terror you are.”
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