The familiar comfort of his mother's living room on a Friday evening was a balm to Zaid's soul.
The lingering unease from the charity stream and the sterile silence of his green card dorm room seemed to dissolve in the warm, cluttered space.
He was sitting on the sofa, his grandmother in her favorite armchair, the soft murmur of a historical drama on television filling the room. It was a perfect, peaceful moment.
Then, a firm knock echoed from the front door.
"I'll get it," Zaid said, heaving himself off the couch. He expected a neighbor, maybe one of his new friends stopping by unexpectedly. But when he pulled the door open, he found himself staring down at his twelve-year-old cousin, Sami, who stood on the doorstep with a small, wheeled suitcase and a backpack slung over his should
