and, in one downward stroke, remove the gills and the entrails.
“The clothes are lovely.” “I had no use for them,” Mariam muttered.
She dropped the fish on a newspaper smudged with slimy, gray juice and sliced off its head.
“It was either your daughter or the moths.” “Where did you learn to clean fish like that?”
“When I was a little girl, I lived by a stream. I used to catch my own fish.”
“I've never fished.” “Not much to it. It's mostly waiting.” Laila watched her cut the gutted trout into thirds.
“Did you sew the clothes yourself?” Mariam nodded. “When?” Mariam rinsed sections of fish in a bowl of water.
When I was pregnant the first time. Or maybe the second time. Eighteen, nineteen years ago.”
Long time, anyhow. Like I said, I never had any use for them.”
You're a really good khayat. Maybe you can teach me.”
Mariam placed the rinsed chunks of trout into a clean bowl.
Drops of water dripping from her fingertips, she raised her head and looked at Laila, looked at her as if for the first time.
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