She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. "What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely.
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