One Hundred Years of Solitude

on an old carpenters bench.
saying anything that came
into her head, while the boy
waited beside her, more bored
than intrigued. Suddenly she
reached out her hand and
touched him. Lordy! she said,
sincerely startled, and that
was all she could say. José
Arcadio felt his bones filling
up with foam, a languid fear,
and a terrible desire to weep.
The woman made no
insinuations. But José