He couldn’t have been more than 17 seated across from a

middle aged man scrutinizing an Arabic newspaper

at the clothed table facing the
entrance “A snack” he responded quickly to my question about a
spinach/cheese roll wrapped in a delicate pastry dedicated to
protecting his mother from embarrassment with her timorous
perfectly constructed English “Two minutes” she assured me
holding up fingers as her husband made his appearance to
ask something before rushing back to the kitchen in an
effort to avoid messaging impatience I ambled over to
the tea sets displayed on a table under a Palestinian flag
spanning the length of the table and a t.v. tuned to Al-Jazeera
Arabic reporting on a protest at Democratic headquarters and
I said I hear Al-Jazeera English is very different from Al-Jazeera
Arabic the boy said he watches the Arabic only at the restaurant
for his mother the cook assistant to her husband and receptionist
because you know mumbling something “I don’t know if there’s
a difference” and I left wondering why the Arabic restaurant and
grocery also Palestinian owned and managed at the back of the
compound does not have a flag on the wall and whether it takes
courage.