Thanhhà Lai

«When I was little, Bà would whsper all kinds of maybes to herself when she thought I was asleep. I remember now. I usted to sneak in and sleep with her. Deep in the night, I’d hear murmurs of maybe Ông escaped, maybe Ông lost his memory but was healthy and happy, maybe Ông was stuck in a place where no one knew the war had ended, maybe Ông was thinking of us right now.»