Chapter Forty-Two
AMATULLAH'S POV I pulled the sleeves of the sweater I wore over my clothes to my icy hands to keep them warm. Through the glass windows painted with drops of rain, I watched the rain that drummed the roof and wet the garden behind. A drop rolls down the clean glass merging into another until it travels to the end of the glass and disappear. The flurry wind carried the drops of water in blustery whirlpools and directed them in diagonal ways. The lawn was wet. Water ran down to the drainage beneath leaving behind puddles of muddy water that had mixed with sand. Despite the windows that were closed and the fan and air conditioner that were switched off, the atmosphere in the room was icy. I shifted my eyes from the window to look at the family sitting in the living room. The sky was grey al
- Writer
