Ahmed was playing with the three round pebbles he collected from the dirt. He threw them around in the air, and caught them at his whims He tossed the fates of the pebbles just like the people of the world had tossed his. Ahmed cheered along the birds that failed to chirp. He could play for as long as he wanted; mama would not call him for dinner. Not today. Not ever. Ahmed knew little of where mama was, even littler of what became of baba. He lived with the strangers of his