He looked through the window, not moving a muscle, only staring vaguely at the absent-minded snow. He thought he should pray, but had little idea what...he could possibly say to his Creator. The fear. People now knew him. He had been exposed to the entire mosque, and certainly he would be followed, because people actually believed in the unfortunate spectacle. His paranoia grew with each unique snowflake.He knew he had enemies by default who would want him dead. He did not know whom to trust. But she didn’t answer.Emboldened, I started calling, “Good morning, señorita!” each morning.She would nod and keep walking, but never answer.Then, one morning, when I stepped out onto my patio, something felt different. The day was different, or the air, or the sun, or the sea. I couldn’t tell what it was, or how I knew, but I knew…something…was going to happen that day.Then I saw her walking up the beach. It was early for her, which surprised me. And she looked as if she was walking straight. More

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