Hemingway and the Sea


I was snorkeling in Cape Town, lying face down in a shallow tide pool over delicate shards of coral that looked like glass. They are red, with ruby leopard spots, and I’m thinking about The Snows of Kilimanjaro. My stepmother jumps into the pool directly on top of me, and paralyzes me instantly. She slowly walks back and forth on my spine with pointed stilettos, crushing me into the coral. I know I’m going to die, but I just keep wondering how that leopard  died up on the mountain.



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