For a few days I'd been hearing that Que was back. I didn't believe them. Why would she come back? Where had she been?
I passed by her house one day, but the doors were closed. I just assumed she wasn't there, and all the things the villagers were mumbling angrily were just rumors.
She upsets me, of course, but I have no grudge against her. She appears to be just a pawn of her malicious brother.
I wonder where she went. I wonder if she's seen my brother.
I wonder if she's seen that traitor Chinh. Has he poisoned her mind with his corrupted, impossible dreams?
One night, I learned what the villagers were saying was true. She was back. A resentful, raging crowd was trying to burst open her house's front gates.
Should I do something? Should I not?
Was she guilty?
I found myself standing in between the mob and the shelter of her home. I found myself defending her, the poor, pure woman, who had suffered just as much as any of us.
There are some things that cannot be returned. Somethings that are lost cannot be recovered. And what if the thing you lost has a mind of its own? How will you possibly know where he has gone?
And even if you do, how will you ever take him back? With a red bird watching over your shoulder, ready to peck out the eyes of anyone who opposes it, say Que, what will you do? I have hope in you yet.
(Once again I apologize for posting very little, but I will try to write more this week as my arm hurts a little less.)
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