That’s how Hassan was sold that day. His promise to live and bring Ata back flashed when he blinked. It was a covenant he could not conceal. It was the dream of his existence. Come what may, regardless of the hardships he bore, he would have his twin again. That determination shone in his eyes like brilliant stars at night. We saw it. They saw it. Only he did not see it. But he felt it, and he knew his eyes would not lie. The moment he took the block and lifted his head, oohs and aahs tumbled through the light morning air and we knew it would not be good for him. And it was not. Bids came from every direction. Light murmuring turned into shouting unlike we had heard in many days. Hassan was thin and of average height for our men, with hardly any muscle tone. But his eyes shone that day like pearls of black onyx. We shook our heads. There was no way to hide them. They spoke his soul’s intent. And his soul said he could have his brother back—if he would live and multiply. So as life revitalized his limbs, Death lost all hope for him.

Time passed slowly as pale men made final bids. We stared at Hassan, who stared in return and nodded. The pale man who bought him smiled and dashed to the platform and caressed Hassan, from his head to his shoulders, down his back, across his buttocks, down his lean thighs and calves, to his ankles, feet, and toes. He then studied his purchase, clapping with overwhelming excitement. Hassan never flinched. All he saw in his mind was a son—bursting forth from his mother’s womb—with the same face he and Ata shared. That would lift the weight from his chest. That would assure him the ancestors had not forgotten. That would give him strength to live when Death came knocking. That would dissolve the image sinking into the blue abyss. That was all he needed. And he would fight a lifetime to have it.

The pale man led him gently off the block. It was as if he wanted nothing to mar his precious purchase, nothing to damage his newest possession. Hassan did not resist. He looked at us, one last time, then turned away forever. He didn’t care where he was going. He didn’t care what pale men might do to him. He had a plan, a hope, a vision. If it came to pass, he would forgive the gods and leave everything else behind.

This was not the end. There would be another day.

*   *   *