When I get home it’s gotten worse. Specks of dried blood cover the edges of her nostrils, rubbed raw from the constant presence of the handkerchiefs that lay balled up around her. Shadows under the eyes, so dark. I sit beside her and ask her how she’s doing. She offers me a weak laugh as though I’ve said something funny.
So, you started saying 'she' in this paragraph, but you never really explained who she is. It's a tad bit confusing. I know you might be doing this to make it a bit mysterious, but it would be easier to understand if you gave her an introduction or something. ;P
We play a game of bridge together. The coughing starts again, soon she can’t hold the cards. They fall from her pale fingers. I tell her it’s okay, she should rest. She tells me she’s tired of resting. She wants to cook for me. I tell her no, I’ll cook something. But I’m a horrible cook, she tells me. I ask her that she stop reminding me. Maybe she would if she didn’t need to eat.
The way you make them speak here without using real dialogue is interesting, and I have no doubt that you've done that on purpose, but it does get a little redundant in this paragraph.
Every time I turn around I read the words upon the plaque. Bring me your tired, your sick, but no one wants to come. There’s smoke in the distance from where the bodies burn.
The part about the sign could have been a little more clear. The sentence in blue sounds like it's all on the plaque, but I realized it's not.
OK, so. Again, your story has made me very compassionate for the characters in it. This was adorable, but at the same time, a tad heartbreaking. I've only read two of your stories, but I really liked both of them, so nice work eh!
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