Saltwater on a young boy’s cheeks sympathetically streams down our own. One cold child is a burning key, melting hearts, locks. Gates swing wide under the weight of shared humanity and gnawing guilt of action long overdue.
We preen in our kindness…for a while.
Our sympathy is temporary, our empathy ephemeral. A dead face is singularly unforgettable, but unremembered amongst the immediacy of a living tide of desperate tears crashing against our shores. Tragedy en masse makes the many a mirror; we see only our own needs and safety, our own faces.
Gates shut; rust.
Nobody counts in large amounts.
Genre: Cynical Rant
This is my entry to this week’s Friday Fictioneer’s Challenge – I’m fully aware it’s very heavy handed and not really a story, but I don’t care. This is where the picture took me, this is what you get!
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting again (check out her Addicted to Purple blog) and thanks to David for the photo (his blog is here: Green-Walled Tower). Also check out the other stories (there is often over 100!)
Any comments, criticisms or shares are (as always) welcome and appreciated.