Tear of a Sphinx
The patter of the drums faded away and my mother's little footsteps slowed with it, leaving nothing but the eerie drone of the pipe and the long sweeping motions of my mother's arms, her entire body. I knew she was thinking of her home beyond the horizon where the wind made the sea of grass dance in the same lazy way.
And for a moment, just for an instant, I saw a shine in the sphinx's eye. I wasn't the only one who saw it; a wave of emotion rustled the crowd around me. We were all about to hold our breath, as if such a gesture could grant a wish or avert a fate.
But the moment was gone before a single one of us could suck in a breath to hold. My mother's arms wrapped to one side in preparation for a turn, the drummer's fingers hovering over the drum skin, about to tap
