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The Cruel Brother
On a very hot afternoon in August, in an Arabic city, I was walking alone toward my home. I was exhausted, after a very busy day of working in a hospital, as an assistant to an ornery doctor. I was thinking of requesting to work in another department, when a young man and woman hurried beside me. He was hardly breathing, and she was very pale, holding an infant in her arms. They both seemed terrified of something or somebody. By a wave of his hand, he stopped a taxi; he held her left hand, while the crying baby was in her right hand. …
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