HAUNTED
“TO WHAT CAN I LIKEN you, that I may comfort you, O Virgin Daughter of Zion? Your wound is as deep as the sea. Who can heal you?” Lamentations 2:13
For some time, the only sound was the loud droning of the train’s engine and the protest of its heavy wheels over the tracks. Finally, I found my voice.
“That was you?” I squeaked, remembering the Old Woman’s nervous visitor the night before she died.
Shin nodded. His face, still covered in soot from the train depot fire, was now visible in the dim morning light. He took my hand in his. I recoiled from his touch.
“When did you become a prisoner?”
Shin lowered his gaze. “I never was a prisoner.” He spoke to the floor.
I stared at the detention guard, trying to understand his words. Little by little, what was at first enshrouded in
