Birds and Stones

Four

She asks War why She did it the next day.

War only shakes her head and does not utter a word. She knows her eyes must look different today. She did not look in any mirrors but she knows. What War made her see pollutes them, suffocates them.

Why did you do it she asks again, and they are in the classroom. But there is no stationery or paraphernalia except on her desk. There is no chalk on the board.

War rests Her bulbous head on Her clasped hands and looks at her. She hates it when War looks at her this way, she hates that She is so silent and isolating. Everybody vanishes whenever She appears. She is beginning to hate Her when before she thought they could be friends.

It is as if War reads her mind. She picks up a pencil on her desk and pulls a piece of paper. There is a small smile on Her face. Her head is no longer bulbous.

War draws. Her eyes don't catch what. The lines melt into the paper as soon as they are made.

She tells War I can't see anything. War barely looks up and does not care. She continues drawing, She seems like She is having fun.

I want a turn she demands in that entitled vice of children. She simmers down. Please may I try?

War grips her by the neck and fear feeds into her soul. Her eyes tear up even though Mama who birthed her and Baba who held her have always told her tears are for the weak. They said it to her and they said it to the boys. If you cry you won't find a wife they would joke and all the adults would laugh. Chuckle.

The laugh from her memories cuts through air and it is now War's. It is blatant thievery and it is not quite how she remembers it. Shrewd. Malicious?

War comes right up to face and breathes Her rubble over her lips. See you tomorrow War says.