Picking Up the Pieces

October 11, 2011
She pushed her self up off the ground. Smoke engulfed her, as she looked around at the debris. There were men and woman, boys and girls, walking around, looking for the lost. She heard a child cry for its mother, a woman yearn for her husband. It was all her fault. But if she could go back, she wouldn’t have done it any different.

She brought her hand up and wiped the tears away. He had made her strong, and she wasn’t going to let him down. With one last look at him, lying peacefully in the middle of the street, she turned and walked away. She had turned her back on everything before, and she would do it again, for him.

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