It is said that when Bibi Siti wrapped herself in the pennant, the cloth was soaked by her blessed sweat and warmed by the prayers she breathed into it. Overflowing with her wild graces, the pennant pledged itself to the same way of truth and righteousness, out of adoration for the saint who had held it close.
Dreamless, xe drifted downstairs—and found a swamp. Old linoleum shimmered under a sheet of water spattered with moonlight. Ferns and horsetails hid the walls, choked the back door. Broken logs slumped out from the pantry. Gnats and mosquitos found xer arms and neck.
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