When something hits a little to close to home
I haven’t written something in a while, I think It’s because I couldn’t find the right thing to write about. I think it’s because I couldn’t find the right words to use. I think it’s because for a while I lost my voice. But I think I found it, maybe. On Friday night (or Saturday morning), my friends piled into my car and we set off to the only place open at 3 AM- iHop. The car was buzzing with laughter, we were all excited to eat suhoor together and then sleep. It has been a tradition to get suhoor with friends at least once during Ramadan. My brothers did it, and now I do it. But what I didn’t realize that something so simple can be so terrifying. We went to the iHop that was farther from us, but in a safer area. I drove carefully (not speeding like usual). I parked as close to the front as I could, so we wouldn’t be standing outside for long. There was a moment when we were driving on an empty road and there was another car next to us- I pulled ahead so they couldn’t see i