Page 111 - A Woman Is No Man

her shoulders, her cheeks were full and bronzed, her lips a crimson red.
Isra’s hair had been straight and smooth, her features plainer. Deya moved
closer. She was startled to see the woman wearing a short skirt, her legs

covered only with sheer panty hose, and she wondered how she was able to
walk around town without feeling exposed. She must be American, Deya
decided.
“Is that you, Deya?”
“Do I know you?”
The woman gave her a sad look. “You don’t recognize me?”
Deya moved closer, studying her face again, carefully this time. There

was something familiar in the openness of her eyes, the way they held her
gaze in the dim light. She froze, a piece clicking into place. Of course! How
could she not have recognized her sooner?
“Sarah?”