20 Apr 2017
There had been a time, in admits all of the horrors, where she had been nothing more than a little girl, marveling at the world atop kind shoulders. Amongst the pain and bloodshed there was sunlight and laughter. Reminding her that she was human, that she wasn’t born with red in her ledger.
The memory reminds her that she had been innocent once, that she was human.
She wonders -as she bleeds near Odessa and on a bridge in Washington- if he clings to that moment as tightly as she does.
(Basically an excuse to write about Natasha Romanov and all of her doubts)