Afghan Black

Finger tips stroking my shoulder. That’s what woke me up. I rolled my head and opened my eyes to see the face of a young stranger. She smiled as I said hello then presented me with a hot mug of coffee.

She tells me that the men will be here in an hour and that her dad sent her to wake me. I clumsily prop myself up, take the coffee and reach for my cigarettes on the bedside table.

I look at the girl, she doesn’t look a day over nine. Her braided hair frames remnants of baby fat on her pretty face and I can’t help but feel guilty about letting her father get involved in this deal.

I tell her that she best go get something for lunch but as she heads out of the room she stops, points and asks me why I have that with me. She’s looking at my knife and my head’s too hazy to give a quick reply.

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