Chapter XXIV: Bitter-sweet
It is a quiet afternoon in Caluipat. The sun filters lazily through the glass jalousie windows, and the small electric fan hums steadily in the corner of the sala at the large wooden column between the dining and the sala.
Mercy sits on the jade sofa, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, holding a thin yet yellowish-leather Ilocano book: Ti Librok dagiti Estoria iti Biblia (My Book of the Stories of the Bible). It was once owned by none other than Tory, where Tory gave it to Jonn. Since Jonn has put it away, Mercy uncovers it. The faded cover speaks of years of being opened, read, and re-read.
At her side, little Mark sits cross-legged, eagerly waiting.
"Okay, apo," Mercy says, adjusting her glasses. "Today, we read about... ah! Exodu, Ti Panagballasiw
