She asked him why he was leaving as he packed his things.
"I will be back after I find work," he assured her.
She waited. She didn't hear from him for two weeks. Then she made other plans.
Through the hospital where she now worked as a nurse's assistant, she entered a contest for girls where the winner was to be flown to the United States for state-of-the-art reconstructive surgery.
She became one of the ten girls ultimately chosen.
On the flight, she asked the girl sitting next to her, who was missing most of her nose, if this was the same kind of airplane that dropped the bomb.
The girl snorted derisively through her gaping nostril.
They didn't have surgery immediately due to insufficient funds. It turned out there first stop was an American talk show, where the girls were placed behind a screen so that their well-coifed, traditionally-costumed silhouettes could be seen on television.
She disliked the itchy synthetic material of the makeshift kimono, and she despised the announcer with his stiff hair and embarrassing pleas with the television audience to "be generous on behalf of these lovely young women, who deserve a second chance at life."
But when the spotlight shone on her, she smiled her brightest smile, even though she knew it was unseen by anyone watching. She smiled in the face of the white light that nearly blinded her before it moved on to the next victim and left her in darkness.
The surgery was mostly successful, leaving her with only a large scar on the side of her face and an unseemly bald scalp. These defects, however, were easily concealed with makeup and a wig. What could not be helped, said the doctor in a voice as faultless and pure as his white mask, were the marks on her back, where the extreme heat from the blast had branded the design of the dress she had worn that day into her back.
She demanded a mirror. After much pleading, the doctor assented and allowed her a glimpse at her reflection, which revealed an obscene outline of a rose bouquet reaching from her shoulder blades to her tailbone.
She stared at the ghastly flowers for a moment, and then breathed: "Beautiful."
The doctor asked her if something was wrong, but she ignored him, continuing to stare transfixed at the image in the mirror.
"It is alright," she finally told him in English. "I will never take my clothes off again."
Upon her return home, she quickly found work in a luxury hotel.
