They came out to join her as she waited, hands on her tense shoulders. It’d been ages since she’d been allowed to meet him. Today they’d finally given in to her pleas.
When she saw him coming, she ran to him sobbing, “Dada!!! I miss you so much!” He swallowed hard, holding her tight in arms that were ordinary except for a band of lighter coloured skin on one finger. There once was a ring there; matching one the woman at the door used to wear.
Looking upwards, bitterly he asked, “Why, God, are the innocent always the hardest hit?”
All alone I lie here. My love has been wrenched from me. Where she is now, I know not.
We were made for each other!! Without her; my existence feels pointless. What use am I alone? She gave my life its meaning and purpose.
Perhaps that is why you have left me here to die….
While packing my clothes, to carry to Bahrain from India, I seem to have left one, of a pair, of my socks behind. Poor chap, he probably knows that I don’t wear mismatched socks and that his end is near. This little piece is what I think he would say to me, if only he could talk.