Young Dakka brushed the sand from his feet, took a deep breath, and climbed the leaning coconut palm. His calloused hands and feet gripping the striated trunk like magnets on steel. His gaze focused on the top, so far away. His thoughts reaching into the heavens, with the sorrow that consumed him.
Pushing his head among the leafy branches, he locked his knees on the trunk, extended one arm, and struggled to reach the one remaining fruit. It was farther out, but not as large or heavy as the one he dropped yesterday.
The one that killed his aged grandmother.
Pushing his head among the leafy branches, he locked his knees on the trunk, extended one arm, and struggled to reach the one remaining fruit. It was farther out, but not as large or heavy as the one he dropped yesterday.
The one that killed his aged grandmother.
