Which details in these lines contribute to the underlying tension of the scene as Salak prepares to depart? Hobbled donkeys cower under a new onslaught of rain, ears
back, necks craned. Little children dare each other to touch me, and
I make it easy for them, stopping and holding out my arm. They
stroke my white skin as if it were velvet, using only the pads of their
fingers, then stare at their hands to check for wet paint.
Thunder again. More rain falls. I stop on the shore, near a
centuries-old kapok tree under which I imagine Park once took
shade. I open my bag, spread out my little red kayak, and start to
pump it up.