Ibrahim and Omar raced beneath the fluttering fabric strings. Blue, white, and red swished past their heads as they sprinted down the street.
'We're going far away,' Omar whispered. He stopped running and looked down at his shoes.
Ibrahim stood alone. A stray fabric square brushed his shoulder. The street was empty.
Ibrahim sat at his desk. Three envelopes waited on the table. He stamped each one and dropped them in the mailbox.
He checked the mailbox every day. It stayed empty. He wondered if Omar had forgotten him.
A brown leaf skittered across the pavement. The wind carried it away, just like that.
A package thumped at his door. Ibrahim tore the twine and opened the flaps.
Inside was a drawing — Omar beside a giant cactus. A paper airplane slipped out.
He folded it again. His arm flew forward. The airplane looped through the air.
Every Sunday they called each other. 'Hey!' Omar's voice crackled but sounded bright.
Ibrahim traced a map on his wall. His finger moved from his neighborhood to the cactus desert.
A high-five sticker peeled off his finger. They laughed about the lopsided dog.