The refugee boy

Previously

…Karim caught it, surprised by its coolness. He turned it over in his hands, the smooth surface a welcome sensation. “In my country,” he started, his voice a little rough, a whisper at first, “we had a place like this. By the river.” Lily’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked, leaning in slightly. “What was it like?” And for the first time, Karim began to speak, the words flowing hesitantly at first, then with a growing ease, telling her about the river, the trees, the games he used to play. As he spoke, the whispering walls of his fear began to crumble, replaced by the shared adventure of a hidden den, and the quiet, growing warmth of a new friendship.