“Mike, she finish,” he says. His voice barely audible and downbeat as it always is, but now it also carries a hint of disbelief. I knew that he meant she was dead, but partly not knowing what to say and partly because I needed to say something, I respond over the scratchy mobile connection, “What? Daniel, what do you mean?”

“Elvira. She dead. She stop breathing. We go home to village now. I go. Funeral in two days.”

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