BONITA WAS STILL AWAKE. Sleep hadn’t come easily since Duck’s return from possible death in Somalia. She resisted the urge to drink liquor to mask the inner turmoil. All it served to do was give her an almighty hangover the next day. And, being part Asian, she didn’t handle the alcohol well. Instead, she paced the floor praying, thinking, and reminiscing until exhaustion took hold.
Finally, she gave up.
She went to the bathroom armed with a fluffy towel. She gazed at herself in the mirror, her puffy-eyed reflection stared back at her. Work clothes that used to fit her well hung loosely. She had lost a lot of weight in the aftermath of Duck’s illness. She slowly unzipped the side zipper then shrugged off the red dress, dropping it at her feet. She picked it up deftly with her toes and too
