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Weekly Contest #79
On the better days, I dream of being a little girl again; my six-year-old body slightly shivering with the cold breeze of Amman’s summer nights. I’d be half-asleep but pretending to be fully unconscious. My father—my ultimate hero back then—would pick me up and carry me down to our basement-like apartment to put me in bed. I always loved it when he did this. But today isn’t a good day. I woke up in the time I’d designated for myself, finding out I’d been crying in my sleep again. My jaw muscles felt too tense, and my teeth were again so ...
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