Slouched unnaturally, Momma’s shoulders lolled just centimeters above her knees, a battered syringe still protruding from her foot like an errant dart. Knowing better than to intrude upon this moment of clandestine rapture, Polina just grazed Momma’s cheek, and whispered, “Till we meet again.”

The danger was undeniable. She had not even attempted to delude herself where that was concerned. But as she passed out of the halo of illumination that surrounded the front porch and negotiated her way through the squalid streets of what was left of the Kopli liinid, she remained resolute in her decision.

She would board the plane with the Americans and travel with them to San Francisco. Any uncertainty she may have had surrounding the promises they made to her of a good paying job awaiting her there, were quickly negated by the certainty of what her future held, if she stayed behind the lines..

Word Count: 150

Written in response to the prompt Estonia on What Pegman Saw.

14 thoughts on “Polina

  1. I guess when the present is as bleak as you portray it, it is no great leap, to accept great risk, to gain the chance of a better life. Still I worry that she may have taken up with human traffickers, in which case her life will likely be no better.


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