Mariam saw a bedsheet hanging from a window on Jadeh Maywand.
On it, someone had painted: zendabaad taliban! Long live the Taliban!
As they walked the streets, Mariam spotted more signs painted on windows, nailed to doors, billowing from car antennas that proclaimed the same.
Mariam saw her first of the Taliban later that day, at Pashtunistan Square, with Rasheed, Laila, and Aziza.
A melee of people had gathered there. Mariam saw people craning their necks,
people crowded around the blue fountain in the center of the square, people perched on its dry bed.
They were trying to get a view of the end of the square, near the old Khyber Restaurant.
Rasheed used his size to push and shove past the onlookers, and led them to where someone was speaking through a loudspeaker.
When Aziza saw, she let out a shriek and buried her face in Mariam's burqa.
The loudspeaker voice belonged to a slender, bearded young man who wore a black turban.
He was standing on some sort of makeshift scaffolding. In his free hand, he held a rocket launcher.
Beside him, two bloodied men hung from ropes tied to traffic light posts.
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