Imperfect Circle

Had it all come half circle once more to the bowels of Ar? It would stand to reason. Where else could you hide a stolen slave so brazenly in public and think to get away with it?
I knew it by its smell alone and with the sordid fragrances of urine, urt feces, spilled paga and the tang of cum was an odd sense that I'd come home.
The card the freewoman of many colors had long since been lost but as the guard herded me along the busy streets I looked for her. I remember the feel of the image that had been painted on the small announcement, the one of the laughing corpse. I could still feel the texture beneath my thumb.
From beneath the dark hood of the cloak I'd been allowed to wear I watched a face now and then. It wasn't so much expectancy to see the actress or the beautiful faced boy I had met outside the insula. It was simply seeking familiarity. My impassiveness otherwise kept my keeper's hand latched to my forearm. The not so gentle jerks to keep me closer to his side allowed a glimpse of the ivory flesh and the contrast of the golden sirik of my ankle to be seen. His growl was for his own benefit. I did not care.
What happens in the Anbar District stays in the Anbar District.