LADY OF THE HOUSE
It was drizzling now and she was finally she coming out of the bush. She walked through the long grass, a smile on her dark mouth, a shovel balanced on her shoulder. Today her hair was loose, wet and sticking to her skin. Now and then she wiped her cheek.
The closer she got to the house, the more clear the black soil on the shovel became. Then her eyes caught mine and the spoon I was washing crashed against the tiles. The woman disappeared from view.
I turned to my co-worker who was salting the avocadoes for the lady of the house. “Hey, where does she always go at midnight?”
“Who?”
“The madam. And she's always carrying that shovel.”
“Oh. She's just burying the rabbits that like to eat the crops.”