Can We Talk About the Word?
“Can we talk about the word?” Emilia says. Zahra sits, writing in her brown, leather-covered notebook in Central Park at a round, white, steel table. Her yellow dress dances across her crossed legs as she slightly moves, habitually turning her ankle, which makes her gold sandals bounce. Beside the notebook is half a bottle of water and a peach. The day is kind and warm. The sun is shining bright. Several hummingbirds hover near a tree that cast its shadow over the small white table and Zahra. Zahra had been walking for some time before she grew tired and decided to rest. Now she writes, I need you here with me to - “Can we talk about the word?” Emilia, again, says. Zahra stops writing, pressing her pen on the
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