“What answer do you like?” I ask her.
She doesn’t respond, instead focusing on the sea before her, moving her hands through the air with the grace of a dancer. “Why are you so curious about my gift?” she asks.
It’s my turn to shrug. “No reason in particular. I would imagine most people are.”
“No, not really,” she says, frowning as she jerks her hands suddenly to the left, then back in front of her. “Mostly, people just tell me how blessed I am. Sometimes they say it while combing their fingers through my hair—I always hate that. Either way, no one ever asks me questions about it. That would dance too closely to talking about the mine, and they don’t want to hear about that. Better they think of it as something mystical that exists beyond the realm of their curiosity.”
“I didn’t think y
