Scars Of A Broken Bond by Calv Momose

The notion of leaving had been sparked by Tyrone. Sabrina no Longer harbored any animosity toward the idea of being with him,
yet she hadn’t contemplated reconciling with him either.
Kira’s words had hit home. If Larry had indeed played a role in her father’s death, it would be a Herculean task to entirely erase
her resentment against Tyrone.
Hence, once the credits rolled on the movie, she could explore the possibility of relocating to another city or even a different
country.
She yearned for a quieter, more peaceful existence.
Galilea’s daily routine had come under scrutiny, her once-vibrant career left in tatters.
Consequently, she rarely ventured outside lately, her outings limited to occasional strolls. Her serene and untroubled life gave no
hint of her status as a suspected criminal.
Whenever she did venture outdoors, Galilea was accustomed to donning a hat and a mask. Her neighbors had grown used to
this sight and greeted her with casual friendliness, “Out for a walk today? You’ve been at it for quite a while.”
With a warm smile, she replied, “Just take a walk, really,” said Galilea with a smile.
“Enjoy your walk. I’ll head off now,” one neighbor chimed in.
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“Alright,” Galilea responded, waving as they departed.
As her neighbor disappeared from view, Galilea decided to venture across the street to the shopping mall.
Inside, the children’s area reverberated with the joyful clamor of kids at play.
Scanning the area, Galilea’s gaze settled on a boy seated in a gently rocking car.
She made her way toward him, her steps unhurried.
The boy regarded Galilea with wariness, rising to his feet as she approached.
Galilea stood before him and inquired, “Frankie?”

Frankie examined Galilea from head to toe, then asked cautiously, “Do you know me?”
Without skipping a beat, Galilea posed a more direct question, “Is your father going to prison?”
Frankie’s countenance shifted.
“Don’t say such things.”
“I’m not talking nonsense,” Galilea countered firmly.
“You’re well aware that your father is a murderer.”
Frankie’s face paled, his eyes welling up with tears. He bit his trembling lip and retorted, “He’s not...”
“Would you like to help your father?”