By Marina T
The room lit up with white-gloved applause. Sarai lifted her fingers off the piano keys, stood, and bowed. At eleven, she had already achieved more than most pianists dreamt of in a lifetime.
Sarai looked around, at the ladies in expensive Hawaiian pearls, at their husbands’ bulging bellies struggling to stay enclosed beneath jackets.
Her mother sat in the front row, tearing with pride.
As Sarai waved, her sleeves slid down to her elbows. She dropped her arms and continued to smile at the audience, hoping the spotlight hadn’t revealed all.
Her cuts still stung, but not like her father’s absence.
I didn’t see this coming. A good twist at the end. Strong stuff.
Well done! Of course she was taking in the audience, she was searching.
I love the notion, so true, that accomplishments don’t save women from tragically brutal treatment. We need to witness this and your story lets us take this in so poetically.
…or from self-harm, maybe?
Amazing!