Prose

She could pinpoint who stole the fer out of her eye that summer.

It was not one person but a conspiring few, who may not have known each other in person, who made their plans not face to face, not on WhatsApp, not even in spoken words. But somehow as if given the cue out of thin air, they came to an agreement to do what they did.

It all seemed mercenary while she was witnessing it.

I say witnessing because her body delivered a satisfactory social performance; lots of words came out of her mouth, her hands waved gestures, her eyes wrinkled into mimics, but in her head…