My hands grew weary protecting these walls, my back bent, and my eyelashes fell out from staying up late watching them. He made me swear on his deathbed to protect his legacy. I obeyed my father and married my cousin. I accepted half a husband and a son and waited for my grandchildren. The first came as a boy. I was happy and my longing for the second grew. But she came and no other grandchild came after her. The cursed one blocked the way before them and stole their souls. Stealing became a disease for her. She steals my stories and tells them to strangers, the legacy of my ancestors. Hurry, angel. My hands grew weary... I am tired... I am tired.

