PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria
“Where is that boy?” Hassan demanded.
“I sent your son to your father,” Um-Ali responded from below.
Her voice was calm in the way that often enraged him. As if she’s talking to a baby, he fumed.
“What were you thinking?!” he exploded. “You know I need him on market day!”
“I know you need help on market day,” she stated. “I called Mustafa.”
Her brother. Lord of bossy annoyance. Hassan glowered at his wife.
She chuckled. “You look exactly as Ali had this morning when he thought he’d have to go with you.”