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acf02dc
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"Would you like to come in?" I said. My hands were sweaty. Inside my chest an ocean heaved and crashed and heaved again. "I would," he said. I saw his Adam's apple jerk as he swallowed. "Thank you." I was distracted by that thank you. We had moved past the language of formality long ago. It was strange to relearn it with each other."
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divakaruni
fiction
immigrant-experience
immigrant-fiction
indian
indian-authors
love-mothers-and-daughters
mothers-and-daughters
novel
women-s-fiction
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Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni |