"The woman watched the sun go down. they watched it bathe and wallow
in the sea and throw a cloth across the sky. They thanked my father for
his help. We give to you the gift of turning life to ice, they said.
And this we give you, too. They tipped a little perfume from a jar into a
scallop shell. He smelled it---but the skin upon his nose touched the
arc of liquid. It froze. Dissolve it in your mouth, they said, and make a
wish. My father sucked. My father wished. He wished he had a healthy
arm, four fingers and a thumb. It will come true, the woman said."
Jim Crace, The Gift of Stones.
