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“Some numbers I want them to know: fifty, the age of the man they knocked over; fifteen, my age when I met him as a child bride; twenty-five, the number of years I had been his wife; fifty thousand, the amount we had gotten for our farmland to pay for my sick parents’ hospital bills; two, the count of bottles of rat poison we had bought to end our constant worries about work and money; one. the only time I had been pregnant, and he had gone from the happiest to the saddest man I had ever known. (The Waiting)” — Jenny Bhatt
Some numbers I want them to know: fifty, the age of the man they knocked over; fifteen, my age when I met him as a child bride; twenty-five, the number of years I had been his wife; fifty thousand, the amount we had gotten for our farmland to pay for my sick parents’ hospital bills; two, the count of bottles of rat poison we had bought to end our constant worries about work and money; one. the only time I had been pregnant, and he had gone from the happiest to the saddest man I had ever known. (The Waiting)