Rusty air

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He sleeps, unaware of the metallic odor that has permeated the air.

She lies in soiled sheets, breathing in the rusty air — unmistakable proof of her bloody sacrifice.

Rust forebodes corrosion, mother once said.

Wrong, she realizes. It is the delicious scent of liberty, a prologue to great days ahead.



Author: Aira Mallapre

Aira, a dreamer by day and crammer by night, has been singing out of tune since 1995.

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