Once the fire was extinguished, Ali searched the ruins. There was nothing of material value to be found—he knew this—the bomb had torn through his home as if it was made of paper mache.

A tree branch falls. Nobody notices. The wind lifts and drops five dead leaves onto the sidewalk just outside God’s own, moss-covered house.

Luna was glum; Luna was furious; Luna was hungry. Her human had forgotten to serve her her afternoon bowl of Meow Munch...

Nouha loved flowers—she picked them wherever she found them: by the vast grove of olive trees where her brothers worked, along the city streets under the shadow of skyscrapers...

For Sale: American flag...