It’s 7am. Leila follows me into the bathroom. I notice her reflection in the mirror – fiddling with the drawers that store extra towels – as I brush my teeth. She’s not really interested in the drawer handles or contents.
She’s working on something else.
“Rawul did it!” she says over and over.
Every time she says his name, her lips take on a life of their own. She’s focused. It’s 4 or 5 more rehearsals before I stop her; ask what it is that he did.
She grins; laughs with gleaming eyes. Her cute as crazy cheeks look up at me. I cup them in my palms and kiss her.
I wonder if she’s imitating me, or if she came up with that line on her own. And to what end.
She says it again, intonating every syllable with assertion.