“Many are filled with anger, for that is the only force they find to sustain themselves”
The blue brocade gown is in her left hand. The small brown leather rectangle that is her forged passport is in his right hand. They both hesitate, waiting for the other to proffer their part of the deal.
Becca stares ahead, defiantly, determined not to give over the payment he required of her before she receives the precious goods. The room is already stuffy, though it’s early in the morning and still cool outside.
She looks around. The window is open, but is covered in thick blinds, to do some kind of hopeless battle with the sun. At her feet, one of the twins crawls towards them. The baby stops when it reaches her and tugs on the fabric of her dress. She can’t help but smile, even as she hopes the baby’s hands are not sticky.
Abu Khamir flips the passport back onto his desk, leans down and picks up the baby.
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