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A figure emerged from the water—small, salt-crusted, smiling with eyes like wet pebbles. He wiped his hair with a palm and blinked at Mutola. "My name is Lumo," he said. "I was taken by the tide when I was small. The sea kept my laughter in a shell, and I forgot which shore I belonged to." He cupped the shell and let its laugh spill into the air, where it threaded through the mangroves and returned to the village as the exact note that used to belong to a child who had long ago sailed away on a visiting canoe. mutola libona