6
Tomorrow is the first day of September, Timothy realized one morning. The fog was draped around the valley below, cradling the little houses and large boulders on the hillside. Above, the sky was clear. Perhaps the fog would burn off and the clouds disappear in a rush of steam. His baby was six weeks old. Timothy shivered. It was chilly. He took his chai from the bench in Sunita's room and sat on the cold stone step outside with his thoughts and his baby. He had swaddled Isaac in blankets and hoped he was warm enough. A man passed on the path, heading up the mountain with three donkeys in front of him. He waved a stick beside their faces to keep them moving, shouting choppy words. "Hoy! Chal! Ha!" The donkeys were carrying heavy loads, with vegetables tied to them, bottles of water in b
