THE CHOICE
It was late in the afternoon and cold, the windows of the bus were fogged by the hot breath of the weary miners. Half of the fathers in the village worked in the coal mine outside the small Irish village and made their way home each day on the company bus to a waiting family and a hot meal. The roads were slick with ice. It was one of those times that you dare not put on the brakes or turn sharply for danger of skidding off the road. There was a solid rock wall on the right, and a shear cliff on the left to the quarry below; the driver carefully guided his precious cargo down the narrow incline. Suddenly, as they approached the village, through the dim light the men could see the form of a small boy sitting in the street, playing in the snow, back turned to the fast approaching bus. An erie hush descended on the bus…
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