Mina presses her forehead against the cool kitchen window. Across the street, children chase each other around a sprinkler. Their laughter floats through the summer air like golden bubbles.
She traces the outline of a red bicycle with her fingertip and turns away. Down the hall, her brother's sneakers thump against the floor. Her mother calls something in their language, and Mina cannot find the answer.
That afternoon, Mina steps onto the back porch. The wooden boards feel rough and warm beneath her bare feet. A sprinkler hisses nearby, and the smell of cut grass fills the air. She walks to the fence and grips the wooden slats, her knuckles whitening. She opens her mouth — but no sound comes out.
She tries again, quieter this time, and a single word slips out: 'Hello.' The word hangs in the warm air between them. On the other side of the fence, a small girl with pigtails stops mid-chase, her yellow rain boots planted in the damp grass, and turns with eyes wide as saucers.
The little girl's face splits into a grin so big it reaches her ears, and she shouts back in a voice like wind chimes, 'Hello!' Mina's hands unclench from the fence, and the two of them stand on opposite sides of the wooden slats, saying the same word over and over.
They repeat the word over and over until the sun dips low and paints the yard gold. The fence between them feels just a little less high.
Mina presses her forehead against the cool kitchen window. Across the street, children chase each other around a sprinkler. Their laughter floats through the summer air like golden bubbles.
She traces the outline of a red bicycle with her fingertip and turns away. Down the hall, her brother's sneakers thump against the floor. Her mother calls something in their language, and Mina cannot find the answer.