Nosuma leaned against the railing on the hospital steps, and watched the elaborate dance in the village square. The hospital"s elevated steps gave her a view of most the goings-on. A bandage covered half her head, a sweat-soaked gown tied in back doing little to clothe her slim, boyish physique. In her pocket was her holocom, already on with an open channel to Kwena. Beside it was the pole sculpture figurine, the slim maiden figure made of teak.
Another patient settled near the opposite railing, the man"s arm and shoulder in a sling. “I see there"s someone else wanting to watch,” he said, looking her direction. “What bed are you in?”
She didn"t look at him, pretending to be enraptured by the ceremony. “I don"t know,” she said, shrugging listlessly, “Just got here today.” The sirocco lent
