The Knife Falls

Kamala lets the knife clatter onto the table, the sound sharp in the quiet, and she steps past Abdul as if he were furniture. She stops in front of me, her face close enough that I can smell the smoke on her hair, and she says, 'The debt is gone. Now say it. Say the thing you have been holding since Tuesday.' I open my mouth, but Abdul's voice cuts in—'She asked you a question, Sandip.' Kamala does not turn; she keeps her eyes on me, and I feel the word rise in my throat, the one that is not the sale and not the keeping, and I do not know if I can say it with him in the room.