Café

Sarah limps from the explosion, barely able to see through the dust and debris. She coughs, covers her mouth with the torn scarf, and follows the sounds of voices.

Her son and husband are most likely buried in the rubble. The last visual she has of them is laughing while they were having lunch at the café, she sipping her tea while listening to their previous day’s outing.

Her leg is throbbing, and her head pounds, but she sees soldiers up ahead.

Panting, she pleads, “My husband and son need help.”

The soldier gives her a pitying look and nods.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher