The woman reached out a gloved hand and tenderly stroked his cheek.

‘I did it to protect you … because I love you,’ she said before she leaned down and kissed him full on the lips. The kiss lingered, and then she straightened up and was gone.

Vida

VIDA

Vida de Villiers was finding his way home when he heard gunshots – three in total. At first he thought the shots were just part of the noise in his head; the sounds that were always trying to return him to the bush … to the fight … the battle … the war. He had almost convinced himself that it was all in his head, and then he heard the sound of something that had no business being in the bush – a woman’s shoes clickety-clacking along a concrete pavement. The brittle-sounding heels were moving towards him, and Vida had the presence of mind to duck into the nearest alleyway.

Had the woman seen him? Was she after him? He could not hear much above the frantic beating of his heart. He tried to quiet it, but there was too much adrenaline coursing through his veins for his heart to heed his desires. All he could think was that he had survived the war, if only barely, just to be gunned down in the streets. He would die not a hero, but a victim of something that he did not even understand.

The alleyway smelled of all the things you expect an alleyway to smell of – old urine, beer, neglect, dankness and decay. Maybe the smell of beer came from him. But there was something else, something unexpected. Was that the smell of bread? Warm, oven-fresh bread? Where exactly was he? Soon another scent invaded the alleyway. A woman’s cheap perfume? A cheap woman’s perfume? The scent meant that the woman was near. Vida felt his nostrils tingle with the desire to sneeze, and he had to use all his willpower to suppress the urge. He stopped breathing, and thought he heard the shoes clickety-clacking up the pavement and away from him.