Binod pulls his buff up over his nose and wipes the sweat and dust out of his eyes as he walks past broken buildings. It’s mid-morning and the sun is beating down on the streets, lanes, and tented fields around Chamati. The stink of garbage is everywhere, and the birds are having a feast. He’s passing out fliers today to the earthquake refugees who are rummaging around the rubble for household items, personal effects, and scattered clothing. He looks at them as he walks, watching them trying to put their lives back together. It’s depressing; an overwhelming, grim struggle to reclaim what the quake has taken from them.
What it has taken from him!
Lately, he wonders what’s the point of life when everything can be ripped away in a moment.
In the next district over, his brother-in-law Dibak
