So, as soon as the midwife fell asleep in a corner, exhausted, Bimbo got up, took the baby into her cold hands, did not look at her face, and walked out.
The village was still asleep. The sound of crickets was the only witness.
She walked to the Ogen River, her footprints erased by the low mist. She stood there before the dark water that whispered songs of centuries. The baby squirmed in the cloth with barely an audible cry.
“You are going to destroy me. You knew it,” Bimbo whispered.
And without another word, she let go.
The sound of the cloth hitting the water was so faint it did not even echo. No thunder rolled from the sky. No leaf moved. Only silence.
Then Bimbo returned home, lay in bed, and shut her eyes tightly.
The next morning, when Mario came running after hearing about the birth, he found Bimbo hugging a pillow and crying.
Continued on the next page
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