It’s not about me or you, but destiny.

I’m the girl on the city bus wearing the hijab, looking nervous. If you talk to me, I won’t hear you the first time. I’ll probably ignore you. I have a resting bitch face.

I stare at the ground. I sweat, I can feel myself sweating. God, it’s hot. I sweat too much. It’s from the medicine, but which one?

I visited the doctor today. Did I tell you it’s my birthday? I got the injection she gives to the people in the hospital, but it was free. At my first appointment, the doctor asked if my birthday had anything to do with my religion.