Two houses, virtually identical in structure and appearance. Odd, right?
I was Indiana Jones, hanging from a rope above a pit of snakes, my moves skilled and sure. My recorder was below, begging to be rescued like whatever unrealistic female heroine Jones would fall in love with and then totally forget about by the sequel.
She took in another breath, reminding herself of the hours she would have to spend today making forced smiles to cover her nerves, laughing anxiously to prevent herself from saying something she didn’t mean, and breathing in and out to steady her heartbeat.
There are two honors for women here. One is that you marry well; your husband doesn’t beat you and will hold you close at night. Two: you become a crab girl in the crab factory.