Plastic Sandals

Tears welled in my eyes. My feet seemed melted in place, unwilling to move, not to go back or forward. And panic gripped me. I wanted to scream. My plastic sandals were yelling, urging me on, into the street.
I closed my eyes and pictured my father’s face, his solid gaze, his tiny chin. The way he laughed and called me ‘princess’. It calmed me, the way he always calmed me, when my mamko beat me for letting the wash fall on the ground. I waited a bit for my courage of adventure to return, and then I darted into the street, to the other side. ~Tina Bash

excerpt from: Plastic Sandals, a short story set in Tanzania, East Africa by Tina Bash.