Laila pulled the curtains open. At the foot of the bed was an old metallic folding chair.
Laila sat on it and watched the unmoving blanketed mound that was her mother.
The walls of Mammy's room were covered with pictures of Ahmad and Noor.
Everywhere Laila looked, two strangers smiled back. Here was Noor mounting a tricycle.
Here was Ahmad doing his prayers, posing beside a sundial Babi and he had built when he was twelve.
And there they were, her brothers, sitting back to back beneath the old pear tree in the yard.
Beneath Mammy's bed, Laila could see the corner of Ahmad's shoe box protruding.
From time to time, Mammy showed her the old, crumpled newspaper clippings in it,
and pamphlets that Ahmad had managed to collect from insurgent groups and resistance organizations headquartered in Pakistan.
One photo, Laila remembered, showed a man in a long white coat handing a lollipop to a legless little boy.
The caption below the photo read: Children are the intended victims of Soviet land-mine campaign.
The article went on to say that the Soviets also liked to hide explosives inside brightly colored toys.
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