A. M. Hassan Writes

“There she is!”
Even through a crowd of people, I could pick Arlene out, louder than everybody. Sweaty and tired, I push my way thorough family hugging and lovers kissing hello, some part of me or the two suitcases I was pulling rubbed against everybody I pass. That must be normal in these kinds of places because nobody said anything or I just moved fast enough not to hear. My eyes don’t go above anyone’s neck, I didn’t need the sneers today. It felt good not to apologize every other second. I made my way toward Arlene’s voice, wishing I could read their minds.
“Baby!” she was almost unrecognizable with her short auburn haircut and skin almost browner than mine. Her outfit was like what tennis player would wear, white and sporty. When she put her arms around me. I remind myself to hug back, hoping the past will stay…

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