INDY
“This is Indy.”
The announcement followed me like a banner as I was led through the narrow dirt paths of the village. The houses were small and built of timber and stone, their roofs layered with dried thatch and moss that had settled over time.
Faces emerged from doorways and open windows as though I were a festival attraction. Wrinkled hands reached toward me with familiarity. My cheeks were pinched more times than I could count, and each pinch was accompanied by a delighted exclamation.
“So pretty!”
“She has Lucille’s eyes!”
“Oh, look at her smile!”
Some of them cried openly. Others pressed my hands between theirs like I was their own child.
I smiled until my cheeks began to ache, but despite the physical discomfort, warmth bloomed inside my chest. I did not feel scrutin
