must have been around 50 years old, maybe older.
She was wearing a faded turquoise sarong.
My heart stopped before my brain even understood why.
I figured there must be thousands of turquoise pareos in the world.
Then the wind lifted a corner.
I saw the yellow sun.
Crooked and hand-stitched.
Exactly where my mother had sewn it.
I crossed the terrace without even realizing it.
” Excuse me. “
The woman turned around.
“Where did you find that?”
She lowered her eyes to herself.
” That ? “
” Yes. “
His expression changed slightly.
“I’ve had it for years.”
“Where did you find it?”
My hands were trembling.
Michael called me by my first name from behind me.
I ignored it.
I took out my phone.
I had to try three times to open the right photo.
Then I brandished it.
Nora, 16 years old, dressed in this turquoise sarong with the yellow sun.
The
