Next door, violence prowls. A storm opens dark eyes, tears falling down, down, down.

Shhh, stop crying. See that window? Open it. Breathe. Now lean outwards slowly, slowly…

SLAM! Mother enters, eyes bruised, body bruised, freshly battered from a knockdown fight.

“What are you doing? Get back in. He’s gone.”

Elizabeth Cheung, from Hong Kong, blogs at recusant-reconditus.blogspot.com.