She picked up her mother’s limp, sleeping hand. One day insects would eat that hand and crawl into the womb that had once held her in its shell. The whole thing seemed like a cosmic mistake. How was it possible that such a beautiful creature could be mutilated in such a cruel way? The indignity of it astonished her. She defaced Zaib over and over again; it was the mental action of someone outside themselves making a reckless attempt to play the role of the onlooker. It didn’t help, instead it just made her realize how frugal nature had been in bestowing its creatures with pleasures and how generous it had been with its dreams. There was a continuous existing imbalance in everything she thought about and it caused a deathly panic in her. She looked at Zaib’s face again. There she was, her perfect mother, negated by life… almost dead, with throbbing matrix functions only, and a sleeping smile that was her only reality right now. Still, she hoped something unexpected would happen.”