Extract from Sold by Patricia McCormick
Sometimes, between the twilights I unwrap my bundle from home and bury my face in the fabric of my old skirt. I inhale deeply, drinking in the scent of mountain sunshine, a warmth that smells of freshly turned soil and clean laundry baking in the sun. I breathe in a cool, Himalayan breeze, and the woodsy tang of a cooking fire, a smell that crackles with the promise of warm tea and fresh roti. Then I can get by. Until the next twilight.