I don’t know what anyone else did, or said. I just know I looked to the sky and froze, as the white lines of missiles headed upward on the horizon. “You’ll hear the boom” she said, as the missiles flew out of view; and as if, on cue, the indescribable sound of a collision in the sky washed over us.
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On the corner of exasperation was a part of me, so angry at myself, that I couldn’t break free of this neighborhood, the corner of shame was the version of me who was self loathing for even trying. The name of the neighborhood: guilt.
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