Across the street, a hand motions Jimal, come. Once there, he bends from the waist placing the jug so the spout caught the clear water. Hide in the doorway, Annah. Out of sight. Safety lies in the doorway.
Flecks drift upward into the sunlight.
The water chugs to the top. Jimal points two fingers, motioning to Annah, a dull shadow, a ghost, once his treasure. Annah poses uncertain at the curb. Annah waves back to him. Jimal signals again.