Mariam tried the bottom drawer of the dresser. It was there that she found a picture of the boy, Yunus.
It was black and white. He looked four, maybe five. He was wearing a striped shirt and a bow tie.
He was a handsome little boy, with a slender nose, brown hair, and dark, slightly sunken eyes.
He looked distracted, as though something had caught his eye just as the camera had flashed.
Beneath that, Mariam found another photo, also black and white, this one slightly more grainy.
It was of a seated woman and, behind her, a thinner, younger Rasheed, with black hair.
The woman was beautiful. Not as beautiful as the women in the magazine, perhaps, but beautiful.
Certainly more beautiful than her, Mariam. She had a delicate chin and long, black hair parted in the center.
High cheekbones and a gentle forehead. Mariam pictured her own face, her thin lips and long chin, and felt a flicker of jealousy.
She looked at this photo for a long time. There was something vaguely unsettling about the way Rasheed seemed to loom over the woman.
His hands on her shoulders. His savoring, tight-lipped smile and her unsmiling, sullen face.
The way her body tilted forward subtly, as though she were trying to wriggle free of his hands.
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