Friday, February 8, 2013

The Foreign Woman


The touch of metal made her hands shake.
“Now, go back,” she gestured softly but assertively.
The child hesitated, held by the invisible hand of this vaguely dangerous situation he didn’t understand.
“It’ll be ok. Just go back,” she repeated.
The child obeyed. He never lost sight of the foreign woman knelt on the ground, her hands in the sand.
“That’s it.”
The bomb squad would come over and carefully defuse the device.
He would never see her again, but he wouldn’t forget her, the recollection of her blue eyes alive beneath the surface of his adult awareness of death. 

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