Lincoln sits outside their tent waiting for Binod to get ready for the day. It’s mid-morning and the sky is overcast. Here and there, columns of campfire smoke rise up to meet the clouds. The murmur of the milling refuges (most of them women with children and the elderly) is a steady, low hum over the encampment. He wonders how today will go for Binod. Sila and the baby left two days ago with her mother and father for Bhaktapur. Sila’s father, Prabin, had given a worrisome account about the quake. Its epicenter was north of the city, and many of the villages in the hill-lands sustained significant damage, which only added to the difficult parting between his friends. There were tears and promises made that everyone knew were tenuous at best. Since then, Binod has busied himself, helping ou
