A short story conserves characters and scenes, typically by focusing on just one conflict, and drives towards a sudden, unexpected revelation. Go easy on the exposition and the backstory, your reader doesn't need to know everything that you know about your characters.
the woman jumped screaming on the chair!
Answer:
B. They can't tell who is a civilian and who is an enemy combatant.
Explanation:
In the book <em>Sunrise Over Fallujah </em>by Walter Dean Myers, the book is centered about an 18 year old US soldier named Robin but called Birdy in Kuwait where he is waiting for orders on where next to go. Eventually, he is sent to Iraq after going through confusing Rules of Engagement about who to shoot and who not to shoot.
<u>The Civil Affairs unit which happens to be Birdy's unit is tasked with the responsibility of gaining the trust of the local Iraqis to trust the American soldiers.</u>
Their confusion about who is a friend or foe in Iraq is characterized when they start getting remote IED attacks and do not know where it is coming from or who to trust.
Through the sacrifices Della and jim make for one another, they prove love is more important than material possessions. as the narrator says "of all who receive gifts, such as they are the wisest." When they make such sacrifices, they do it to make the spouse happy. They sell their most prized posession for each other. For jim, it is a family heirloom, his grandfather's watch, and for Della, its her long, beautiful hair.
"She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends—a mammoth task."
“Jim, darling,” she cried, “don’t look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn’t have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. . . . Say ‘Merry Christmas!’ Jim, and let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice—what a beautiful, nice gift I’ve got for you.”
"Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him."
"Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,” she went on with sudden serious sweetness, “but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
