Joan

by Katherine J. Chen

Around them is the glory of autumn, leaves stained vermilion and gold, the sky a shifting dome of blue-gray. It is the kind of landscape that invites the eyes to linger and to rest, a waking dream that feels better than sleep.

And friendship, she finds, does not eat away at one’s heart like anger, like vengeance. It does not weigh the soul down but lightens it.

Those who do nothing, who stand by and watch as chaos unravels, who feel that as long as they are alive and in good health, it does not matter what else is happening in front of them, why should they be innocent? They are guilty, too.