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( f ic t i o n) Ghulam Ali pushed his way through the sugarcane. It was quiet and still except for the anxious scuttling of insects around his feet. He squatted down, and the stems closed in around him when he untied his shalwar to urinate. It was then that he heard something. The cane, 1 0 T H E M I S S O U R I R E V I E W / S U M M E R 2 0 1 5 July Sun Aamina Ahmad Photo by Umer G. Malik cracking underfoot. He stood up. In the distance he saw a shock of bright red. He might have mistaken it for a bee-eater, hovering, snapping at a dragony fl , but a light wind moved through the cane and the fabric of a red dupatta flew up. It was a girl. Ghulam Ali u fl shed. He wasn’t the kind of man to leer at young women relieving themselves in the fields. He turned to leave, hoping to disappear before she discovered him, but then he heard a voice calling out. A man’s voice, but there was no one else in sight. Just the
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Jun 24, 2015
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