Page 157 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

“Lu-er, did you try to kill me?”
“Where are we, Dad?” he said feebly.
“Where else could we be? You scamp—you actually went so far as to jump
from the cliff. I’ve never been happy with you, but I never imagined . . .”
His father’s voice grew fainter and fainter, farther and farther away. A cool

breeze blew against his face, and birds were chirping all around. This was so
comfortable. He sat up. He didn’t hurt at all. He looked up: the golden-yellow
rapeseed plot was boundless, and bees busied themselves in the flowers. Where
was Plum’s uncle’s home? He stood up and looked, but he didn’t see it.
A path in front showed him the way home.