The Swan Flies Straight

The second Friday arrived the way a train arrives at a small station — slowly, noisily, and a little late. Zara had counted the days on her fingers every morning: Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday — and then, at last, Friday. All week she had carried Ayaan's first letter in her school bag, folded inside her notebook, and she had read the last line so many times that the paper had gone soft at the crease. "If my letters…