From my soon-to-be-published Short Stories for the Soul:  “The Forgiver” Shireen’s heart pounded as hard as her feet. None of this was happening. It couldn’t be for real. It was all too—that word she’d just learned—insane. She stopped for a bicycle rickshaw passing in front of her and kept running toward the park. No. Papa said bad men might do bad things to her there. Ah, Mr. Varghese’s shop just beyond the park. He was kind to her, and in the back he had a small courtyard where he drank tea with favorite customers, like Papa. She turned left around…