The child took a deep breath and looked sharply at Alma, just like the lawyer at her divorce hearing. “You want—what?”
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With dozens of classic miniature Japanese woodblock prints and informative text, this Japanese art book is an essential for print collectors.Of the many genres of ukio-e, perhaps the least known is that of the diminutive surimono produced by Utamaro, Kiyonaga, Hokusai, Hiroshige, and others. They were the small,…
“I want to get out of here and go on with my life.”
“You want to live forever.” The child’s speech had lost its halting quality and become effortless. Smooth. Like that damn lawyer.
“I got a right to live. I got another ten good years in me. I always thought I had another ten good years left—”
“Well, you can try. There's no right to succeed."
“What are you talking about—what unnatural kind of a child are you, anyway?” Alma tried to raise her stick of a body and grimaced with pain. It took her a moment to recover her breath. “We’re fighters in this family. Pioneer stock! Indian fighters! We don't give up.”
The child leaned close to Alma's face. “Death isn't always the enemy," she said.
"How dare you talk to me like that!" Alma couldn't stop her voice from shaking.
The child cocked her head like a bright-eyed puppy and said, "You were a good daughter. And a good wife. A good mother, a good grandmother."
"You don't mean that," Alma said. Although I was, she thought. Sometimes I was. At least some of the times I was.