“I used to think I was different. But I trace her storms in the way I love always bracing for ruin, always sleeping with the lights off, as if that’s how you keep the house from burning. I started having dreams in her accent. Started pausing before I spoke, like her. Started carrying umbrellas even when the sky looked clear. I mistook her quiet for peace. It was survival. A hush that had teeth. Now, when I cry, it rains in my daughter’s room. The wallpaper peels in the same corner it did in mine.”
Quote by Maimoona Abidi
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A Shelf of Things I Never Said
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