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I sat on my little stool in the room off her bedroom that s there as if I were a figure in a drawing—a precise, detailed sketch of Mama and me

Then the pain cah my neck, and up into my brain

Another flash of light

And once again, nothing

Chapter 69

MORNING COMES TO A MAN hanging fro in his bed—the chatter of birds, a faint breeze, the bark of a dog

Then coain

So much blood had clotted on my eyelids and eyelashes that I couldn’t open them

I breathed in short sharp intakes of air The fingers of h of a passage for a trickle of air down my windpipe It had kept me alive Or maybe somebody had spared me Maybe the one who said I was too tall? Maybe someone I knew?

The rest of my body was pure pain: so intense, so complete, that the pain now seemed like my normal state

“Look, Roy, ain’t no colored man That man white”

The voice of a child

“Dang,” said another voice “Look like they done painted him red all over”

A dog barked

“Worms!” the first boy yelled