Did you have a friend like that when you were young, someone who always waited for you with a smile, never asking why
Now when I think back, that was a real friend
My name is Amir, and I lived in Kabul
Hassan was my friend, or more precisely, my servant, my brother
We grew up together, running wild on the rooftops
Hassan would always say with a smile, "You fly the kite, and I'll chase the wind"
His eyes held only me
That autumn, there was a kite-fighting tournament
The blue kite meant the highest honor
Everyone looked up at the sky, waiting to see who would bring it back
I cut the string
The blue kite wobbled and fell, disappearing over the old master's rooftop
"I'll get it"
Hassan took off running, fast as the wind
His thin knees covered in dust, his legs like springs
People on the street stopped and looked up, I crouched at the roof's edge, watching his back, shouting "Hassan, bring it back"
But he had already disappeared into the alley
It was a narrow lane, with yellow mud walls on both sides, and junk scattered on the ground
I peered into the alley mouth, and saw three boys blocking the path
The leader was named Assef, two years older than us
He stepped forward and said, "Give me the kite"
Hassan didn't move, holding the kite even tighter, saying "No way"
Assef punched Hassan in the face, blood gushing from his nose
Hassan stumbled back but still didn't let go
Assef kicked his knees, Hassan fell to the ground, shielding the kite with his body
The second punch came, the third punch came, and still he didn't let go
I hid at the alley entrance, my legs as heavy as lead
I wanted to rush in, but my legs wouldn't obey
I wanted to shout, but my throat was blocked
Hassan's eyes swept past the alley entrance, saying nothing
But in that moment, our eyes met
Then he stood up, walked out of the alley stumbling, handed me the kite and said, "For you"
I took the kite, my hands shaking
He said, "I just tripped"
and wiped the blood from his nose with his sleeve
We walked home together, he smiled the whole way, as if nothing had happened
Many years later, I stood by a window in San Francisco
Someone was flying a kite outside
I suddenly thought of that sky, the direction where the blue kite fell, the dull thuds from that alley, the moment Hassan stood up, the way he smiled as he handed me the kite
"For you, a thousand times over"
He always said that, I never said it back
The kite still flies in the sky, but the string in people's hearts, should have been cut long ago
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