Linda laid on the cold cement floor, her hot cheek pressed tightly to the ground. Little bits of rumbled pierced at her skin, but she dare not move. It had been four hours since the explosion, at least that's what she had gathered from the clock laying cock-eyed in the corner. Her last memory was sitting on her bunk sketching a drawing of the son she hoped to see soon. She had glanced up wondering how close lunch was when a deafening sound came rushing through her small window, shaking the bricks that surrounded her tiny room.
She had awoke face down, where she laid now. Her lungs hurt from breathing in the dust and smoke. She only allowed herself small coughs to keep her throat clear. As she tilted her chin slightly to get a better look, she noticed a small chunk of missing bricks to her left. The light shining through. It called to her, beckoning her closer. Her heart beat faster as she realized she was still gripping the picture of her son.
This could be the opportunity she had been waiting. The idea spread through her soul like wildfire.
But what would happen if she were caught?
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