Page 321 - The Kite Runner
P. 321
310 Khaled Hosseini
bellyaches. How dark, almost black, Hassan’s blood had looked
on the snow, dropping from the seat of his pants. Blood is a pow-
erful thing, bachem. Khala Jamila patting Soraya’s knee and say-
ing, God knows best, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Sleeping on the
roof of my father’s house. Baba saying that the only sin that mat-
tered was theft. When you tell a lie, you steal a man’s right to the
truth. Rahim Khan on the phone, telling me there was a way to be
good again. A way to be good again . . .
