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Voice of Hope
The plane touched down at sunset, skidding hum-bump on the black-streaked runway. Helen looked out with total disinterest at the grey and black, where only the rooftops and control tower still held color, washed in a beacon of red. The man beside her finally relaxed and loosed his grip on the armrest. Now that he felt sure he would survive the trip, he broke his five hours of pained silence in an attempt to play it cool. Helen was having none of it. She gave him a non-committal sound within...