Luck

As an engineer, he had a decent job with prospects for upward mobility. He knew this was important to women. As were looks, and he thought he was more than adequate in this regard. His family was well-respected and pious. He was recommended by her aunt. He chose her, delighted in her appearance, and accepted the fact that she was an older bride of twenty-five. How could she not see her luck? He taught her, though, with one flick of the wrist. The acid blinding, disfiguring her beyond recognition. She could have said “Yes.” But she didn’t see her luck.

 

 

 

Heather Bourbeau wrote the poetry collection Daily Palm Castings, was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and won the Pisk! Poetry Slam. Her journalism has appeared in The Economist, The Financial Times and Foreign Affairs. She appreciates brevity. heatherbourbeau.com.