Munir first noticed it during a dhuhr prayer at work. His hands trembled slightly as he raised them for takbir, a faint dizziness washing over him like heat rising from asphalt. He brushed it off, too much coffee, not enough breakfast.
Safwan’s mom taped the poem to the fridge like it was a family announcement.
The paper was slightly crooked, stuck under a magnet shaped like the Ka’bah, and Safwan had read it so many times that certain lines started to follow him around the house.