[100 days of 100 words] 95/100 The old Armenian speaks

[kitchen_kink]

She was German Jewish, a refugee. Her body curved like the violin I brought to her every week for nearly a year. Fourteen I was, and she barely spoke the English that was my own third language. My older brother wouldn’t go to her, said, “No, she is too beautiful.” I was still young enough to almost not understand.

One day, I walked the usual way over the dusty trail to meet her for my lesson, but I was told she had gone. “Got married,” they said.

I saw her again once, with her new husband, but she didn’t even wave.

I understood.