90. Hidden Expressions / Hidden Feelings
Happiness can be condensed down to the slightly crooked cast her lips take on when she is fighting a smile, the arrogant closure of his eyes, the smell of something burning on a street corner, the harsh and grating vocalizations of a joyful dog—these are small sums of power in the world. It reminds them of the steady and irritating beat of traditional music on festival days.
But it is fleeting too; Riza remembers the starved, anxious look of a particular widow on a street corner, wrapped in muted shawls and holding a small child. The woman had dark skin and those appalling, tell-tale scarlet-amber eyes—she was the first person that Riza recognized as a refugee, and the feeling was not unlike being punched suddenly and unexpectedly with a metal-clad fist. Riza had avoided eye contact like a plague, and as she passed by, the woman had flinched at the faint noise of Riza's military boots walking on dust.