Four houses inside a red gate – dwarfed by the acacia tree beside it. Murmurs upon murmur, they wait like masked bees waiting for the sting of the queen.
“So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.“
Not in the 21st century when a hollowed neck meant for a lover’s head can be filled with a knee until breath becomes missing air, when a simple hug means death sometimes.
The door creaks. A man looking like he visited the moon came out with a head bowed. Murmurs stopped as held inhales welcomed the still body in zippered bag.