So he asked the old man if he could sell beside him for a few days. He needed something to sell, though. He tried selling shop-lifted chewing gum, but he could never fit enough in his pockets to make more than a few dollars a day. Plus, he was terrible at it; twice he got caught. So, before dawn, he crept to street corners and with two quarters emptied newspaper boxes of ten or twelve copies. He sold them at half price. Then he had another idea. He borrowed a giant coffee percolator from the mosque down the street and sold an extra-thick brew in paper cups he decorated with Arabic sayings. Min ratl hakya tafham wiqya. From a pound of talk, an ounce of understanding. Al ketheb bem’hallu ebada. Lying in its proper place is equal to worship. Kun namla wa takul sukr. Work like an ant and you’ll eat sugar. The cheap papers and the strong coffee were good, but the cups—people liked those the most.

Heather watched the October morning on Brooks Street. A neighbor was trying to clean the pressed aluminum awnings every house had, just scrubbing as hard as he could these ugly stripes the color of old blue washcloths and pistachio ice cream. Gina’s Auto Body across the way had a new chain-link fence topped by concertina wire, but for all that trouble, there was only a totaled Toyota Tercel in the lot. The remote parking for the airport at the end of the street was empty except for way too much litter. Someone had left a brown television on the sidewalk.

Mourad had been gone for over a month now, though he did call. He was not good on the phone. He was uncomfortable. It was expensive. He could not find Aziz. That was all there was to say. He was going to try again tomorrow. He had quit his job to find his brother. Heather wondered where he was living, but he wouldn’t say. He still had his cell phone, but he talked about getting rid of that too.

It felt like betrayal how she wanted Ghazi. And it didn’t help that Mourad called less and less. She couldn’t even count the times she replayed how Ghazi took her wrist that first night or the times when she reconsidered the hints, none too clear, that he wanted her.