Questioning Crime
Sajdaa Taha picking up every artwork that seemed to represent his passionate aura. The paintings were bright lush gardens in Syria, flowers blooming in different colors, buildings soaring. On his desk, my eyes landed on his family's photo. Unconsciously, I traced the image, my fingers running over the elation that used to exist in Malik's eyes. His brown curls looked just as perfect as they did today. I smiled. "Okay," said a deep voice behind me, "let's go over the files of those who died. We have to track this guy down." Malik came in front of me with Hamza following close behind. "You would think it'd be easier to get this man, considering technology these days," muttered Hamza as he sat down beside me. "I mean it's been quite some time since we got anything." "That's a lie. I
- Writer
