Page 3 - November Edition
P. 3

TTP OP-ED










                             THE HER(O)













                                              O n e   c i t y ,   t h r e e   w o m e n ,   t h r e e   s i t u a t i o n s ,   m i l l i o n s   o f
                                              e m o t i o n s ,   b i l l i o n s   o f   t e a r s   a n d   t r i l l i o n s   o f   p a i n s .   P a i n s ,
                                              t e a r s   a n d   e m o t i o n s   t h a t   t h e   w o r l d   t u r n s   a   b l i n d   e y e   t o .
                                              T h e   h e r o e s ,   w e   d e n y   a c k n o w l e d g i n g .



                                              H I B A   Z A I D I


   T        H       E                     On  the  corner  of  the  street  stands  a
   THE

                                          peculiar little building. Even more odd is

                                          the girl that goes in every day. Her eyes

               M
           I
   LIMP                                   are  a  hazel  brown  that  light  up  like
   L
                         P
                                          melted honey in the sun, her nails always
                                          painted  a  blush  pink  to  match  her  rosy


                                          cheeks, her dresses always have odd red

                                          stains  on  them,  and  her  face  always

                                          seems  like  the  texture  of  the  cakes  she


                                          so ardently adores baking at the café.  No

                                          one  notices  her  slight  limp,  no  one


                                          notices the expensive car she comes out

                                          the passenger side of, no one notices the

                                          man watching her with hawk eyes, waiting


                                          for  her  to  fumble.  Still,  she  keeps  her

                                          head up, ploughing through the day.
   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8