He shook his head of long hair. I could see the resolve on his face. “You have to know something,” he said. He glanced around as if he wanted to make sure no one would hear us. “What?” I said with insolence. “What do I have to know?” “This happens every day in Afghanistan.” “What happens?” “Little girls are sold to men like this every day. This is her lot in life. It can’t be changed.” Masood was deliberate and firm in his explanation.
