“Pierre, the food is ready."
She sounded like Mom. In Citiland, Mom would call me to come down from my room to have dinner. After work, she would quickly whip up something delicious for the three of us. That, or she would have guests over.
By the bonfire, smelling of roses, Grace Mo boiled green tea in a makeshift teapot and was ready with roasted fish from the river. I ran over to her with the rabbit caught in the trap near the growth of thorns that leads to the bed of roses.
Grace Mo now stands in the marble passageway. Hands clutching the bottom of the stack of ten books even more tightly. She pushes it up even further in case the book at the peak of the stack falls off. Being careful with intricate details, the Maicans have covered all the books with covers portraying the Maic
