She clawed at the ground, dirt packing her nails. If only she could remember. She felt for cool metal, watched for a flash of silver light, imagined the ring against her skin. The smile the day he left her.
From the watch tower the guards grinned. ‘Crazy bitch,’ said Pedro
‘Every day the same’, replied Pieter, as he watched the tired pantomime and sent a rifle cracking into the brilliant aching sky.
She flinched like an animal.
‘Time to reel her in,’ said Pedro and he scattered a shoal of curtain rings into the air. They fell catching the sun as they went, fell like rain onto the dry soil of the compound and the woman ran around, picked them up, stared at them, before slowly letting them fall through her fingers.
‘Time to come home,’ shouted the guard and the gates opened for her, once again.