The Governor Of The Northern Province - Plot & Excerpts
He laughed at what passed for tragedy in his new country. Last week, the body of a little girl was found pressed against a sewer grate. She had been catching water spiders on a creek swollen by the spring thaw. A floating barrette alerted a man walking his dog. Little Caitlin. In the newspapers at the convenience store where he currently worked, and on the televisions at the laundromat where he attempted to wash his new clothes, and during the elevator chatter at the apartment where he now lived, so high above the earth. Little Caitlin. She was everywhere, as was talk of public safety committees and the need for a protective barrier around the creek when it rose too high. Bokarie would attend the memorial service planned for that Sunday, intent upon fitting in but also a little curious. His manager told him that hundreds were expected, perhaps even a thousand. Each had been asked to wear something pink. That was Little Caitlin’s colour. If the petition circulating was successful, the town crest would gain a sash, in loving memory.
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