Coming back after the devastation was an exercise in defamiliarization. The battered door protested as she dragged it open. The odour of ghosts. A bloody orgy of hatred was scrawled on the walls. Dust danced in her favourite nooks.

She’d baked cookies in this kitchen once. Now she’d make bombs.

Aparna Nandakumar lives in Calicut, India, and writes stories and poems. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Atticus Review, A Story in 100 Words, Cafe Dissensus, and Red River Review. She blogs at aparnanandakumar.wordpress.com.