The ball park was like a concrete kettle, but this day it held the cold wind of late October.

Rania lifts her head off the cot to peer between her knees. Omaja, with her head buried between them, in a cotton white sari, looks like a water lily floating in and out of view.

Colleen pulls in front of my house, blasting the horn as I grab my parka, charge outside, and yank open the passenger door. “Get in, MK. We don’t have much time.”

When you have your big toe amputated, it makes your foot look larger, which is unexpected.