November
A drizzling rain had been falling incessantly since dawn and the morning wind was blowing in hard from the sea. The wind whirled up dry leaves, darkening the mist that billowed in the streets. The wind sneaked into the houses, making Raden Kaslan press Fatma’s warm young body closer to his own; making Suryono sink into deeper slumber in his room as he dreamed of Ies. The wind blew into editor Halim’s room, who was sleeping apart from his wife, because the night before they’d had another quarrel; disturbed Sugeng’s sleep, filled with nightmares; made Husin Limbara’s afflicted shoulder ache more painfully in the morning chill; and caused the s**o palm leaves on the thatched roof of Pak Ijo’s hut to rustle. Then, having penetrated inside and hovered around Ibu Ijo and Amat, who sat
