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What am I even doing here?
They must think I'm crazy.
It's been six years since Selma's death, and this is the first time I have ever set foot in her family's house.
I can sense that I am not welcome.
Even at the funeral, (held at a distant cousin's house) they struck me as the kind of people that are brutal, and sometimes even violent.
They have always given me the impression that they are more angry about her death than they are sad.
Her mother spoke first. "Khalid,"
She paused to take a sip from the glass of warm orange juice she had served me earlier.
"What brings you to Shariff Road?"
"I'm here to ask you about Selma. I need to know."
She seems shocked.
I had never been this frank before. I was always the type of person who lied and sugar coated to avoid awkward situations, but not anymore.
"How dare you."


-1998-
Selma threw her head back and laughed.
"