The Small Key by Paz M. Latovena
It was very warm. The sun, up above a sky that was blue and tremendous andbeckoning to birds ever on the wing, shone bright as if determined to scorcheverything under heaven, even the low, square nipa house that stood in anunashamed relief against the gray-green haze of grass and leaves.
It was lonely dwelling located far from its neighbors, which were huddled close toone another as if for mutual comfort. It was flanked on both sides by tall, slender bamboo tree which rustled plaintively under a gentle wind.
On the porch a woman past her early twenties stood regarding the scene before her with eyes made incurious by its familiarity. All around her the land stretchedendlessly, it seemed, and vanished into the distance. There were dark, newlyplowed furrows where in due time timorous seedling would give rise to sturdy stalksand golden grain, to a rippling yellow sea in the wind and sun during harvest time.Promise of plenty and reward for hard toil! With a sigh of discontent, however, thewoman turned and entered a small dining room where a man sat over a belated amidday meal.