-By Bob DeHoff
She gripped onto her flimsy cardigan which billowed violently due to the temperamental winds. She stared out. The ship left a milky white trail as if a snail. There was nothing in sight. The bruise of clouds that discoloured the skies growled. Soon there would be rain, she shut her eyes. Her fingers hesitantly touched her abdomen. The baby was lost. It was now a lost fragment of who she had been. An insignificant ripple in the tumultuous ocean of her past.
– Ermisenda Alvarez