Journey into the Mind, Part 4

Aafiya and Shariq walked through the empty alley in Ramallah. There was very little in the way of decorations or glamour, of joyful exhibition or of culture. The city seemed to be a skeleton of itself since the Israeli army choked off all supplies to Palestine with their complete blockade. The city was once a cornucopia of color and ebullience; now, a lone pair of siblings ventured into the dangerous back streets of the city. Shariq, the slightly chubby younger brother, looked up tearfully at his older sister; she only stared ahead, looking into that invisible object that was their uncertain future. Shariq stopped in place, tears gently falling from his eyes. Aafiya stopped, her eyes devoid of color or emotion.
“Come,” she stated sternly. Shariq stood like a sobbing statue, his arms stiffly at his sides as he refused to move. Aafiya sighed. She walked over to Shariq and kneeled in front of him. “What?” Shariq looked into her eyes, searching for a shred of empathy. “Mother, father…I miss them.” His nose began running. Aafiya grabbed a portion of her sleeve and wiped his nose for him. Her eyes still showed no emotion, as if she were repressing every single instinct within herself to mirror her younger brother and cry. “As do I,” she said coldly, “but we must keep going. We only have ourselves now.”