He looks up. His eyes are wide. He is still like a child. He has not cut his hair in months and it falls into his face. She only saw him recently and she is alarmed by how much weight he has lost. His cheeks are sunken and his cheekbones even more pronounced. Is she a fool to trust her brother because he is her brother? Against her own instincts, her own intuition, because she wants to believe him, because she has known him his whole life and cannot fathom a change so drastic he would be made unfamiliar to her. “I do.” “Don’t tell Baba?” he asks her. “Don’t you trust me?” “I do. I knew I could
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