20 searching for something to hit him with. But Naser laughed off her defiance and walked away, his son trailing behind, followed by the rifle-bearing man. In the quiet aftermath, my grandmother clung to me, her tears soaking into my shoulder. That evening, restless and eager for adventure, I told my grandmother of my desire to explore the lane where I had seen children playing. She allowed it, but with a stern condition. “Do not be late,” she warned. The children were gathered in two groups. One group ventured south, weaving through the houses made of palm fronds. The other headed toward
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