It was the bounce in her walk, the confidence in her smile, and…. the whimsical red hair-ornament perched on her unruly tresses. The same feathered concoction that I’d picked on an impulse and never dared wear. To successfully carry that off, you need either youth or personality. Shirin has it, I don’t!
As we spoke, I noticed something new. My eyes were wandering over her scars, and she was letting me. To me, she no longer even looked different.
[Shirin and I worked together briefly, and remained friends long that.
Thirteen years after the incident, on her face, she carries the burn scars left by the acid her husband threw on her face. A husband who, incidentally, escaped unpunished.
Initially, I never knew how to act around her, but she taught me to "see" her scars because they were an essential part of who she was. If anyone is a HERO, she is. Because everytime she steps out of the house, she has to battle insensitivity at so many levels.
Her story deserves to be known.]
And, for those who wondered, yes, I am back. And yes, this is a drabble :-)
Once was enough. I will not disappear without warning again.