“No,” he said. “It’s what I say when I close my eyes. E mberego — I remember.”
The old man sat on the crumbling wall, watching the sun drip gold into the sea. His granddaughter knelt beside him, tracing patterns in the sand. e mberego
“ E mberego ,” she repeated softly — as if learning a prayer. “No,” he said
When he finished, the girl pressed her small hand over his heart. e mberego
He smiled — the kind of smile that lives in wrinkles. “ E mberego ,” he whispered.
If that’s the case, here’s a very short story based on that idea: