She walks on the desolate street. She sees death. Rubble crunches under her black shoes. She breathes out and vapor engulfs her. Wilted roses smiled at her.

She sees a boy with a red jacket. He is the enemy, the reason for everything which happened. His country killed many people she knew.

He’s just a boy, she thinks. He’s just a civilian.

Yes, she thinks. A civilian from another country. The enemy country.

He’s bound to become a murderer when he grows up.

You there! she yells. The boy looks at her.

They look at each other for a moment.

You’ve killed us all, are you satisfied?

The boy is confused.

You’ve killed us all too, says the boy.

She’s at a loss of words, because he’s right.

But you don’t matter, she replies.

They look for a moment, her anger filled eyes staring in his sad eyes.

He runs away into an alley.

Good, she thinks. I’ll never see him again.

But now she feels a slight bit of remorse. I’ll never see him again.