Strength and Sensuality [Completed]

1 - No shooting outside

There's no shooting outside.

When I try to sum up the pros of our new home, this one is at the top of the list. In fact, this is the only item on that list. The cons are much longer. Dirty street. Shabby walls. Failing electricity. Maybe rats. The landlady protested when I asked, but not very convincingly.

I don't mind. The house, with its single bedroom and slightly moldy hue, looks perfect to me.

Because, and I can't emphasize it enough, there is no shooting outside. That fact alone makes me feel invincible.

Even the pile of furniture in front of our little apartment can't scare me. The IAO donated us two beds, a table, a cupboard, and a wardrobe, and graciously left them by the road. They match the house perfectly, all worn-out and ugly. But that's not my biggest problem with them. Not only because beggars can't be choosers, though I really started to take a liking to these local proverbs lately, but for the challenge they present. Or should I call it mission impossible?

My son's just standing around, slightly shocked at the look of our surroundings. This might be a moment of revelation for him. Realizing that everything that lost, was lost forever. We've been through much harder circumstances, but those were temporary. This here, the house, the neighborhood, the dust seems permanent, and still incomprehensibly far from home. Not only the place, but our previous way of living is so far, far away. Farther than a galaxy away, even if there is just an ocean between here and there.

I can't help him. I could tell him that none of it is less temporary than the hiding, the escape, and the refugee camp, and he should trust me more. But I don't. I've been protecting him from reality for too long. It's time for Ben to toughen up. I still have my share of fighting ahead of me, but he has to face some too in this unfamiliar place.

Being eight years old, he isn't a huge help, but we manage to move the table through the narrow door together. For the rest, I'll clearly need someone older.

I have two options. Ask one of my neighbors, or one of the people jogging in the park on the other side of the road.

The park separates the rich and the poor. The posh from the trash. So close, yet so far. Again, the distance between here and there is more than an ocean. Or a whole galaxy, while it's only a few miles away.

I don't know anyone here yet. The houses around us are quiet. I try to move the cupboard by myself, but it's too heavy. I swear in my own language. A habit I promised to kick. I know it makes me sound even more a Ropie than my stupid accent.

"May I help you?"

The voice comes from behind.

I almost jump out of my skin.