My name is being called from the street.
Looking out my window,
Gray.
Hesitating, I linger longer,
Biting my lower lip.
Remembering my child,
I lift her.
Bringing her to my chest tight.
Small breaths warming my skin, as
I tiptoe to the door.
Down the stairs, following
Impressed footprints.
At the last step I
Hear worried whispers.
Families watching me from their doors,
Pitying me.
Reaching for the handle,
BANG.
Door flies...
Continue reading...