We stopped at a gas station on the road from Casablanca to Imsouane in Morocco.
She played with her hair, twisting the ends then letting them unravel andtossing it back like a mane. In that moment I looked at her with different eyes — I saw my future. I thought about what dress she would wear, whether her Maman would cry. I thought of my father smiling proudly, her papa giving her away.
We stood together looking out at the horse, alone with the empty sky. I thought about our lives. I held her tight and almost whispered my hopes. The horse stopped grazing, looked up at us and wandered away.
I thought of home and the day I would tell her my dreams.
The weather was hot and the sky full of sun, the exact opposite of the current weather in Paris.
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