I hid my face in Nasrin’s shoulder. She held me tight
and I felt her heart hammering. I closed my eyes and saw the basement caving
in. We would be buried alive. Death would hurt – even more than when I’d
crashed my bicycle and had stitches. But the ceiling didn’t fall on us.
The ground shuddered, and then it was quiet again.
We sat close together, waiting for Maman to come. Nasrin
sang a nursery rhyme, but the song sounded eerie and sad, and lost; I was
glad when she stopped. I didn’t know how long we’d been underground, but
if felt like hours. I was hungry and my stomach ached. I wished we had
blankets. My fingers and toes had gone numb, and I could feel Nasrin
shivering beside me.
Then we heard someone knocking on the door. “Manijeh?
Layla? Nasrin? Are you in there?” a muffle
