Abu Hudhayfah Edwards

I was born into a house that never slept.

Essa was eleven years old, with wide, curious eyes and a quiet way of studying the world. Most people who met him noticed his gentle smile before they noticed anything else.

Nakiyah had always loved how Ahoskie, North Carolina, felt at dusk. Cicadas tuned their small fiddles, and the world seemed to hum like a living drum. On those evenings, the porch at her grandparents’ house became a tiny planet. A dented kettle hissed on the stove.