She thought about Mina.
About Zahra.
About the girls who hid their books whenever someone knocked.
Then Mishi jumped down to the street.
Laila could no longer see her.
She remained behind the gate.
Her father came into the courtyard.
“Cat again?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll come back.”
“I know.”
Hamid stood beside her.
For a while, neither spoke.
Laila finally said:
“Do you know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
“I don’t even want something extraordinary.”
Hamid looked at her.
“I don’t want to become famous.”
She continued.
“I don’t want to leave Afghanistan.”
“I don’t want to fight anyone.”
“I want to go to class.”
“I want to walk to a shop.”
“I want Mina to know what school she will attend next year.”
“I want Mama to visit Grandma without waiting for Farid.”
Her voice began to shake.
“I want ordinary things.”
Hamid lowered his eyes.
Laila pointed toward the gate.
“That cat has ordinary things.”
Her father said nothing.
The next morning, Farid left for school at 7:05.
He complained that his maths teacher gave too much homework.
Mina watched him from the courtyard.
Soraya prepared tea.
Hamid went to work.
Laila opened her biology notebook.
At 7:18, Mishi returned.
She slipped through the gate as a neighbour entered.
Dust covered her paws.
She had apparently spent the night somewhere outside.
She ate.
Drank water.
Then lay down in the sunlight.
Nobody asked where she had been.
Nobody asked who had accompanied her.
Nobody checked how much of her body she had covered.
Nobody told her that the sound she made was inappropriate.
Nobody told her the park was not for her.
Nobody asked whether education would make her disobedient.
She was simply a cat.
Laila sat beside her with a book that no longer led to a classroom.
Outside the wall, Kabul was already awake.
And for another morning, the girl remained inside.
