C H A P T E R 11

THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS

That afternoon, Ammu traveled upwards through a dream in which

a cheerful man with one arm held her close by the light of an oil

lamp. He had no other arm with which to ɹght the shadows that

ɻickered around him on the ɻoor.

Shadows that only he could see.

Ridges of muscle on his stomach rose under his skin like divisions

on a slab of chocolate.