The Shadow King

by Maaza Mengiste

Hirut recognizes for the first time that some memories should be barricaded by others, that those strong enough must hold the others at bay. And as she goes back to the kitchen to help the cook, the first thread of sourness curls inside of her, pungent like rot, so tiny that she chooses to mistake it for the distant smell of smoke.

Hirut wants to ask aloud what he is doing as he digs, but she already knows. Her heart twists in her chest as she realizes that she is watching an old version of herself, that girl who was a keeper of things she should not have claimed as her own. He is doing as she once did, in the naïve belief that what is buried stays that way, that what is hidden will stay unseen, that what is yours will remain always in your possession. He is being foolish.