Jacqueline leaned on the rail and stared at the wake left by the riverboat as it snaked down the Amazon towards Tabatinga. She slapped the mosquito feasting on her forearm. It secreted blood. Her blood.
This cruise was Daniel’s idea. He thought it would bring them closer. The beads of sweat dripped down her back. So hot. She had trouble breathing. Daniel had barely left her side since they’d boarded the boat. He still didn’t trust her even though it had been a year. At night, as they lay in their hammocks, he clasped her hand and would not let go. She rarely slept.
She noticed that the muddy froth of the wake was shaped like a V: like a flock of geese, flying to freedom. She climbed over the rail. She stood still and breathed. Then she dove into the river. She let the Amazon swallow her up.
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