Ghazala tucked her veil neatly behind her ear, tugging her luggage while heading out. As she locked the door, she felt her heart take the first blow.
´I hope to see you again. Have a safe trip back home.´, said Roby, as Ghazala turned in the apartment keys.
The last few months were spent in denial. This couldn´t be happening.
Ghazala had not felt so free and happy than she did in these last three years. Her eyes intoxicated with sights of alternating backdrops of sunny countrysides and night cityscapes. She sang, danced and acted in theatrical shows. She skinned into her various characters as she donned costumes from the sombre to the bombastic. She loved the spotlight and it loved her back.
Then came the knockout crashing all her dreams. The newly elected patriot President announced his strict orders to deport immigrants from select countries.
Bidding adieu to the starry city lights, Ghazala left for Afghanistan awaiting her final blow – a mute hermit lurking in the shadows.
(Word Count: 169)
My entry for this week´s ´Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers´ challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Pamela S. Canepa. Anyone can participate. #FFFAW Challenge #FlashFiction
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