Mahambat, But Not the Opera Star
We are quiet when we come in, trying not to wake a particularly mean dog. We don’t want to irk the new orphanage director, so that she will continue to condescend to allow us to come. We change to our indoor shoes and wash our hands with antibacterial soap, a cross between breath mints and pine disinfectant. Sometimes the volunteers laugh sarcastically at the administrators’ outfits, sparkly, open-backed getups, finished with high heels. ...