short story

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.

Hasanah heard the front door swing open and the thunder of shoes piling into the hallway long before she could close her math notebook. As salaamu alaikum the children said in unison, Abdul-Rahman burst into the living room first, backpack half-unzipped, cheeks flushed with excitement.