6
Amara
Turannos Kariakos presented Amara with a worn, dog-eared shoe box, jammed full and held together by two pieces of red yarn tied into a bow. “Your mother wanted you to have this.” Her quizzical expression prompted him to add, “Poetry, reflections on life, whatever…She fancied herself a writer like you.”
Amara smiled and took the box. “Did you read them?”
“No…well, she read some of them to me. You know I’m not much of a poet.”
She kissed him on the cheek. The balding face she loved had dark patches under sagging, deep brown eyes that began to mist. “Are you going to be all right, Daddy?”
“I’ll be fine. I got the business.” He squeezed her hand and a tear streaked down his face. “It’s better this way. She don’t suffer no more.” After a moment of silence, he added, “We got to hur
