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much as she complains about Brooklyn, it’s partly because she can’t believe it belongs to her, the same way she can’t believe that Rayan and Zina belong to her; it’s like she accidentally picked up the wrong life at the supermarket.
What kind of man, tell me, what kind of man fixes strangers’ hearts at work and breaks his wife’s at home?’ ”
Mazna feels limp, like a flower someone else has plucked.
The three women sigh in unison and Mimi wants to punch himself in the cock.
She might spend her days turning soil, but there’s the unmistakable smell of America on her, abundance, slackened rope.
