One Hundred Years of Solitude

reinforced many times and
with the arms gone. No one
had discovered that even at
that age she still had the habit
of sucking her finger. That
was why she would not lose
an opportunity to lock herself
in the bathroom and had
acquired the habit of sleeping
with her face to the wall. On
rainy afternoons,
embroidering with a group of
friends on the begonia porch,
she would lose the thread of