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Indoor afternoon light filters through curtains in Zamil's bedroom; he sits cross-legged on the rug steering a yellow toy taxi, blue and gold cars scattered while a travel adventure glows on the television screen.
Zamil sat in his quiet room. Blue and gold cars surrounded him. A travel adventure played on television. "Vroom," he whispered, steering a taxi. "Someday I’ll visit," he smiled.
Evening lamplight fills the family living room; Father Mohammed sits on a sofa smiling at Zamil, who perches beside him clutching a plush cushion mid-toss, laughter frozen around colorful scattered pillows.
Zamil sat calmly with his family. The living room buzzed with laughter. Father Mohammed asked, "What did you watch?" "Cars and bridges!" Zamil answered happily. They chatted while cushions whooshed in playful tosses.
Morning sun brightens Zamil's room; he kneels beside a growing block city, finger tracing a marked loop on the carpet road map while assorted building blocks wait in neat rows.
In his bright room, Zamil studied his toy city. "This road needs space," he murmured. He traced a loop with his finger. "Maybe a roundabout here," he planned. He gathered blocks, calm and focused.
Under midday indoor light, Zamil and Saeed squat on the bedroom floor snapping grey plastic road pieces together; an emerging bridge and colorful buildings rise between their focused, smiling faces.
Saeed kneeled beside Zamil on the floor. "I’ll build bridges," Saeed said. "I’ll fix lanes," Zamil replied. They snapped roads together, piece by piece. The city grew tidy, wide, and organized.
Sunny afternoon at the wide green park, Zamil jogs toward Saeed and Fares near orange cones; a bright ball rests between them on the trimmed grass, trees framing their excited expressions.
At the wide green park, Zamil waved. He walked toward Saeed and Fares. "Ready to play?" Fares called. "I’m ready," Zamil answered, jogging closer. They set a ball rolling between cones.
Late afternoon sunlight slants across the park field; Fares stands beside a cone gesturing clearly, Zamil faces him nodding with determined eyes while Saeed counts aloud near a stopwatch on the grass.
Fares explained the rules kindly and clearly. "Listen first, then run," he said. Zamil nodded and repeated, "Listen, then run." With Saeed counting, the group started. Zamil followed every rule and grinned.
Late afternoon in the park, Zamil kicks a ball toward orange cones while Hattan leaps beside him and Sayyaf laughs nearby; golden sunlight catches flying grass and open goal markers.
Hattan and Sayyaf joined, laughing loudly. "Great pass!" Zamil told Saeed. "Nice turn!" Saeed replied. They chatted between plays, breathless and happy. Zamil spoke clearly, and friends understood.
Desk lamp glows in the evening study; Zamil sits at a small table watching highways swirl on the television while sketching a colorful city plan with strewn crayons and a ruler.
Back home, the travel show returned. Zamil watched highways sweep like ribbons. "Wide roads, fast cars," he whispered. He pictured signs, bridges, and safe lanes. His crayons sketched a bright city plan.
Bright midday at the park imagined as a construction site; Zamil studies a clipboard while Saeed and Fares wearing plastic toy helmets hold rulers and small shovels beside a chalked ground blueprint, playground equipment forming the backdrop.
In imagination, the park became a worksite. Saeed, Fares, Hattan, and Sayyaf wore pretend helmets. "Team leaders check plans," Zamil said. Everyone followed rules and shared tools. Their city rose, bright, organized, safe.
Soft orange evening light fills Zamil's bedroom; he crouches by clear garage boxes, gently parking miniature cars in labeled slots, lids propped open beside his orderly rows.
Evening light warmed his room. Zamil lined up cars for the garage boxes. "Good night, racers," he said softly. He clicked lids closed, labels facing forward. The floor looked calm and clear.
Under bright kitchen ceiling lights, Zamil sits at the dining table lifting a spoonful of steaming Kabsa while Father Mohammed listens attentively across the table, fragrant rice and colorful platters surrounding their pleased smiles.
At dinner, steam lifted from the Kabsa. "Today I led our game," Zamil announced. Father Mohammed smiled, "What rule helped most?" "Listening first," Zamil replied proudly. They enjoyed bites and bright conversation.
Nighttime glow from a tablet lights the boys' bedroom; Zamil points to a digital roundabout on the screen while Hattan taps excitedly and Sayyaf raises clenched fists, pillows and blankets scattered around them.
Later, the brothers gathered with a tablet. "We’re building tracks," Saeed said. "Add a roundabout," Zamil suggested. Hattan tapped, Sayyaf cheered, Fares timed laps. Ideas bounced happily between their smiles.
Dim bedside lamp casts warm halos in Zamil's room; he sits upright on his bed, blanket folded across his lap, offering a soft satisfied smile toward the neatly boxed cars on the shelf.
Zamil sat on his bed, breathing slowly. "I fixed roads, played fair, and shared," he thought. He pictured tomorrow’s smoother lanes. The house felt quiet and safe. He tucked in his blanket, calm.
Morning sunlight streams through curtains; Zamil stands in the center of his spotless bedroom, thumbs-up toward the open hallway door while labeled storage boxes and stacked plans line the walls.
He stood and checked his tidy room. Cars rested in boxes, plans stacked. "Thanks for helping," he told his brothers. "Proud of you," Saeed called back. Zamil smiled, feeling happy and safe.
Soft living-room evening, television screen fades to blue as Zamil presses a remote button, folded pajamas resting on the couch arm and toothbrush on a nearby table lamped in gentle light.
He clicked off the television. The screen faded to a soft glow. "Tomorrow I’ll build more," he promised. He brushed teeth and folded pajamas. Hopeful, he climbed under his blanket.
Night hush in Zamil's bedroom; moonlight filters onto his peaceful face as he sleeps under a neatly tucked blanket, toy cars parked in rows on the dresser and faint stars visible through the window.
Night wrapped the house gently. Zamil slept peacefully, breathing even and slow. In dreams, roads flowed wide and safe. "Zoom," whispered cars, guiding stars above. The future rolled toward him, bright.
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