Audrey Sabetfard

Echoes in Her Eyes

I was staring at my aunt’s photograph again, the one I always kept on my desk, the one where her eyes seemed to hold both fire and sadness, when a strange pressure filled the room as if the air itself was listening to my thoughts. The light from the window bent strangely across her face, catching in her eyes like trapped sparks, and the room felt tight, as though the walls had inched closer. Dust floated slowly in the air, frozen in place, as if it were afraid to move. I whispered her name, wondering what she felt on the day she chose to stand up for herself and for all Iranian women. The world around me shattered into silence. The silence rang in my ears, loud and absolute, swallowing every sound I had ever known.