I peered down from the cliff at the deep water, far enough away from that beach in sight where crocodiles basked. As if catching a cool breeze, they kept their jaws agape while dozing in the hot sun.
They called to mind my older brother, his screams. I was there. It came back to me like the day I saw it. By his leg, the crocodile pulled him in and, rolling, took him under.
I shook my head. My brother’s memory cleared, and I returned to my senses on the ledge. Crocodiles couldn’t bother me here. The tension in my back relaxed. I looked down at the craggy depths where I’d swum since a child. Crocs preferred to feed not there but in the muddy shallows where my brother died.
I changed my mind about skinny-dipping and tied the loincloth back on. Somehow, it made me feel better. So did the cr
