Phil told me that I slept for about half a day. And by the time I woke up, it's dusk.
While Phil was cooking a dinner, I excused myself to the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, the room was in shambles. Tiles were broken and signs of struggle is evident. I opened the trash can and saw no syringes inside. The thought of Phil as an addict somewhat subsided in my mind.
I walked to a sink mirror and the reflection of Yaman looked at me. His story wasn't the first nor the last. B.E.G. Will do anything just to catch me. And I mean really anything.
As I admire my unique appearance I could not help but aspire to change into something different. A Syrian in America is suspicious but not unheard of. Neighbors will see this as a red flag and they might contact the bad kind of authorities. I need to change. And I changed into...