Under a Lamppost

Deep and meaningful.

Broken Writer

“How could this be?” He gasped and drew in his breathe. “How could this be,” he said again. With each breath, his voice became angrier filled with remorse. “How could this be!”

Emad did not notice the little girl wearing a red jumper, hiding beneath the shadow of his demise. Her eyes caught a wisp of regret and held in her breathe, unlike the man’s, but more so of utter sorrow.

Why would Emad who not a moment ago was dancing alongside happiness, turn against the world? Why was it easy for him to let go of every moment and lean toward hatred?

The little girl crouched and squinted her eyes to see better in the dimly lit corridor.

It began to sprinkle and soft raindrops kissed her cheeks gently stroking away her tears.

She noticed his hands were rough and large. Perhaps a laborer who toiled in the sun. But…

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