Saturday, January 5, 2008

Feet in the Night

That night, Candida and I, now fast friends, packed in candlelight, drew the familiar dirty cement bags across the broken door, and huddled together for the last night in Soloara.

I said, "I have to go use the bathroom."
"Yo tambien." Me too, she said.

I was going to drag the cement bags out of the way again, when suddenly: the sound of running, pounding feet around the outside the building.

"Actually, I don't really have to go."
"Yo tampoco." Me neither, she agrees.

We grin at each other, snuff out the candle, and crawl under the bug-netting again.

(We found out the next morning, that the "pounding feet" belonged to one of the other Honduran missionaries making a dash for the washroom himself!)

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