photo by Bryan Minear via Unsplash
It was the freedom of movement Reem valued the most. She would walk to the top of the hill overlooking Burnley, the grass hushing her steps, the breeze hushing the grass.
Raising first one hand then the other, she wriggled her fingers, allowed the breeze to wrap around her, pass over her, bringing the smells of the city – petrol fumes, the local chip shop, crushed vegetation.
Adnan laughed at her ritual. ‘Why up there of all places?’
She just smiled, pulling him close. ‘Because I can.’