Keeping the pieces

“NO!!! no, no, no…”

This couldn’t be happening to me! He was screaming at the men. He had no control. The first man turned to him, offering his hand. I struck out. He recoiled. Again he offered. Palm out. Something in the gesture stopped my rage. I looked into his face and the tears I saw unwept in his eyes convinced me. This man was not to blame.

Slowly I accepted the hand of “the enemy.â€? I turned and saw his companion gathering my brother into his arms. I wanted to scream, to leave him alone. He was all I had left and it was my job to protect him. Mine! It’s why we’re brothers. But this was different. I was used to fighting, grabbing for each piece of… of anything.

Now, the only remnants of home that I had were carried along by the strong, but tired legs of the American in front of me. And I wasn’t sure how much longer Isaac would last. On the streets, he had been dying. I had been counting the days.
Now… maybe this way… maybe we could keep the pieces together.

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