My short story about aid workers in Darfur. I have no reason to believe it narrowly missed a Pulitzer Prize, but many thanks to the literary journal Confrontation for publishing this in their special Issue #100. Click here for the pdf: Forced Return
Here’s the opening paragraph.
He knows where her eyes will be without turning. About
three meters to his right. The miniature jean jacket rolled
at the sleeves; blond hair that must be weightless. The boy
looks about eighteen months, maybe a month or two younger. Weight
first on his toes then teetering heelward, unsteady in either course.