It filters through the haze of an afternoon sun casting its light between branches. It accompanies a melody in the throes of uncertainty. It speaks to...us in the soft unbrokenness of a mother’s voice calling for her son in the middle of the night. Maryam had found such a passion, but a passion which haunts and never heals, a passion which thrives on a desperate paranoia for her son’s well-being.As the days continued beyond Mustafa’s first grade year, Maryam grounded him to the small apartment.. With you.”Her face looks up. She looks at me. Her eyes and mine. She blushes. I blush. We stammer for a few moments, then back to the business of cleaning up and leaving for the day.Mid-terms already. The cheerleader behind me had quit asking for my homework but surprised me. She worried that she was going to fail the test.She whispered, “I CAN’T fell this test, otherwise my grade will be too low and I’ll be kicked off the squad!”The HORROR!I offered to help her, so we met a few times in the. More

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