I wrote this little sketch a while ago, then forgot about it. It came from listening to my father and uncles reminiscing after an Eid party.
* * *
Karim eyed the spool of thread longingly. His father had said no, not today, when he had asked for some of the pink cotton.
He knew that when Abu said no, that it was for The Greater Good. But the thread, sitting in the old sugar box under the windowsill, was...