I fling myself off the chair and follow. As I cross the room my brain tunes in to all the different conversations spoken in both Arabic and English. The smell of even more food travels up from the kitchen; it makes my mouth water. But everything else fades into the background as I follow Aminah through a narrow archway. This one is lined with green plants, just like the others, the yellow flowers blooming. But they’re not drooping this time; they’re very much alive.

It must be because I’m in a memory, I think. The entire house looks whole again, and I wish it would stay like this forever.

Aminah exits through a back door that leads to a staircase outside.

The warmth hugs me like an old friend, and I breathe it in, welcome it.

You can see the entire neighbourhood from here, past the gate: the park across the street and the corner shop, Rawan’s house next door, and the others that line the street. Lights shine from each of their windows, like open eyes, watching. I can see the edge of the game too. It’s hazy, like everything beyond it is a mirage. I remember first coming into it, and everything falling apart as I tried to leave.

The two cats wander the courtyard, sniffing around for scraps of food.

At the top of the steps sits a woman looking out at the neighbourhood like a queen watching over her people. It takes some time for my eyes to adjust, and then I see it’s Mama.

Aminah sits down next to her. They sit in silence for some moments, staring up at the sky together, just as the call to prayer starts.

A throaty voice echoes across the neighbourhood. A millisecond later another voice joins it from a nearby mosque, then another. All throughout the country the same words can be heard at the exact same moment, each additional voice adding strength so they speak as one. The wind picks up pace just then and it’s as if the voices have caused it from their collective prayer. It’s as if the sound of their words make the pebbles in the street leap and the leaves on the trees quiver. Together they bring the people to a halt, and all of Kuwait is silent. The sound echoes through the country, so powerfully it seems as if it could reach the moon, even the stars. And when it’s done, the wind halts too.

‘Can you see a tiger?’ Mama asks when the prayer falls silent.

Aminah turns to her, frowning. ‘Where?’ she asks, following her mum’s line of sight. ‘In the sky?’

‘Yes, look.’ Mama angles Aminah’s face so she’s looking just so.

Aminah laughs. ‘No, but I think I can see a heart shape. Aren’t you supposed to do this with clouds?’