something trivial, maybe the warmth of a carpet beneath her feet on a hot day or the curve of a stranger's forehead,
would set off a memory of that afternoon together.
And it would all come rushing back. The spontaneity of it. Their astonishing imprudence. Their clumsiness.
The pain of the act, the pleasure of it, the sadness of it. The heat of their entangled bodies.
It would flood her, steal her breath. But then it would pass. The moment would pass.
Leave her deflated, feeling nothing but a vague restlessness.
She decided that he had said Am I hurting you? Yes. That was it.
Laila was happy that she'd remembered. Then Babi was in the hallway, calling her name from the top of the stairs, asking her to come up quickly.
“She's agreed!” he said, his voice tremulous with suppressed excitement. “We're leaving, Laila. All three of us. We're leaving Kabul.”
In Mammy's room, the three of them sat on the bed. Outside, rockets were zipping across the sky as Hekmatyar's and Massoud's forces fought and fought.
Laila knew that somewhere in the city someone had just died,
and that a pall of black smoke was hovering over some building that had collapsed in a puffing mass of dust.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색