Spring 2010

from Kingdom Under Glass

She flinched when her husband went up to the elephant and fired three last shots, as if he did not trust that it was dead. Then she felt the heaves of adrenaline. That abominable excitement — like poured tin — in the stomach. The ground went vapory beneath her feet, she dropped her rifle, and then found that she could not pull herself free from her buckled knees. She remained like that, stuck to the ground, looking at the woozy scene framing her now, at her husband setting up his camera, and all the porters arriving, knives out, ready to begin the dismantling. The elephant was so close she could see its very aura — the thing for which there can be no replica — beginning to decay before her eyes. No act of genius could bring that back.



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