This is a short story that didn't get published at the two places I submitted it
That word again—side. I am not on any side. And I would never leave you. I would never even hold this conversation outside of these walls, but I will not like the stares implicating you, through me, of guilt, next day I go to the market or when I walk the children to school.
So this is humanity? Others, present others, I should add, brothers in guilt can just go home after the incident and wash their hands and pronounce themselves clean. If a man judges you or I, it is because his own guilty conscience wishes to rid itself of the burden of guilt all present should feel. They use me as a scapegoat.