“I pledge allegiance…” I look down, though folding chairs around me are filled with those looking up. The African man next to me booms with patriotism. His wife and children finish the pledge, then hold hands.
My family is with Allah. Rocket-fired grenades don’t care about dreams, but U.S. soldiers took pity on a seventeen-year-old orphan.
The hand that took his is the hand I place over my chest. I walk in the queue when those in the neighboring seats do. My hijab slips as I take my papers.
Within its folds, I shrink, yet my smile bursts into ruby roses.
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