When Isra first arrived in America, when she first became a wife, she hadn’t understood why she felt so empty. She had thought it was temporary, that she would adjust in time. She knew there were many girls who left their families to come to America, having children when they were still children themselves. Yet they had managed. But lately Isra had finally understood why she couldn’t manage, why she constantly felt as though she were drifting far out to sea. She understood that life was nothing but a dark melody, playing over and over again. A track stuck on repeat. That was all she would ever
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