”So, Lely Nasri. She’d been in this country almost 30 years. Taught ceramics at the Kansas City Art Institute. Dark hair, dark skin. Wearing a tan...hijab covering her hair, but leaving her face open.She smiled nicely, “Deir ez-Zor. On the Euphrates, around 200,000. Free again. For now.” She shook her head, “What my country has been through.”Interesting background, but time was tight. We were in my stockyards office, four of us — Lely, Cathal, Dr. Conners, and me. It was around 9 on the. "I'm here, sweetie. It's all right," she heard him say. He was running his hand along her arm, and it felt nice. Calming. "Simon?" Her voice was just above a whisper. She focused on him and felt a huge wave a relief wash over her. He nodded. "It's over, you were just dreaming." He moved his hand to push some hair back from her eyes, then stroked her cheek. "Okay now?" She nodded, then threw her arms around his neck, hiding her few remaining tears. He pulled her closer and soothed her. With. More

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