Year of the Lilies

Torrid Season

The Hut.

Altsas

Isla

I CRINGE WHEN I GET TO THE KITCHEN. The dirty dishes are piled up in a basin at the corner, flies buzz around the dishes excitedly. Waving the excited bugs away, I pick up the basin and leave the kitchen. I pass a cooing mistress who cradles the child on her lap and sings to her in a shrill and off-key voice. She doesn't spare me so much as a glance, it's clear that she is totally besotted by her daughter, ...