e world； with its giant concrete girders and soaring minarets。 Sohrab perked up at the sight of the mosque； leaned out of the window and looked at it until Farid turned a corner。
THE HOTEL ROOM was a vast improvement over the one in Kabul where Farid and I had stayed。 The sheets were clean； the carpet vacuumed； and the bathroom spotless。 There was shampoo； soap； razors for shaving； a bathtub； and towels that smelled like lemon。 And no bloodstains on the walls。 One other thing： a television set sat on the dresser across from the two single beds。
Look！ I said to Sohrab。 I turned it on manually……no remote……and turned the dial。 I found a children s show with two fluffy sheep puppets singing in Urdu。 Sohrab sat on one of the beds and drew his knees to his chest。 Images from the
TV reflected in his green eyes as he watched； stone…faced； rocking back and forth。 I remembered the time I d promised Hassan I d buy his family a color TV when we both grew up。
I ll get going； Amir agha； Farid said。
Stay the night； I said。 It s a long drive。 Leave tomorrow。
Tashakor； he said。 But I want to get back tonight。 I miss my children。 On his way out of the room； he paused in the doorway。 Good…bye； Sohrab jan； he said。 He waited for a reply； but Sohrab paid him no attention。 Just rocked back and forth； his face lit by the silver glow of the images flickering across the screen。
Outside； I gave him an envelope。 When he tore it； his mouth opened。
I didn t know how to thank you； I said。 You ve done so much for me。
How much is in here？ Farid said； slightly dazed。
A little over two thousand dollars。
Two thou…… he began。 His lower lip was quivering a little。 Later； when he pulled away from the curb； he honked twice and waved。 I waved back。 I never saw him again。
I returned to the hotel room and found Sohrab lying on the bed； curled up in a big C。 His eyes were closed but I couldn t tell if he was sleeping。 He had shut off the television。 I sat on my bed and grimaced with pain； wiped the cool sweat off my brow。 I wondered how much longer it would hurt to get up； sit down； roll over in bed。 I wondered when I d be able to eat solid food。 I wondered what I d do with the wounded little boy lying on the bed； though a part of me already knew。
There was a carafe of water on the dresser。 I poured a glass and took two of Armand s pain pills。 The water was warm and bitter。 I pulled the curtains； eased myself back on the bed； and lay down。 I thought my chest would rip open。 When the pain dropped a notch and I could breathe again； I pulled the blanket to my chest and waited for Armand s pills to work。
WHEN I WOKE UP； the room was darker。 The slice of sky peeking between the curtains was the purple of twilight turning into night。 The sheets were soaked and my head pounded。 I d been dreaming again； but I couldn t remember what it had been about。
My heart gave a sick lurch when I looked to Sohrab s bed and found it empty I called his name。 The sound of my voice startled me。 It was disorienting； sitting in a dark hotel room； thousands of miles from home； my body broken； calling the name of a boy I d only met a few days ago。 I called his name again and heard nothing。 I struggled out of bed； checked the bathroom； looked in the narrow hallway outside the room。 He was gone。
I locked the door and hobbled to the manager s office in the lobby； one hand clutching the rail along the walkway for support。 There was a fake； dusty palm tree in the corner of the lobby and flying pink flamingos on the wallpaper。 I found the hotel manager reading a newspaper behind the Formica…topped check…i