If life would ever be normal again.
When it got dark Thursday evening, I tried to find things to watch on the TV that would keep me awake. I did not want to nap or fall asleep reading. I wanted to be sure that I would hear him if he rang the buzzer. The harbor was quiet. The last of the trains at the station below my balcony left for the night. There would be almost no one on the streets now. If I looked, maybe I could see him walking in my direction.
I began to pace. One, then two o’clock. No panic attack this time. I knew he would come. But when?
It was almost six. The first hints of daylight came through the window, and the morning call to prayer came from the loudspeaker of the nearby mosque.
My phone rang. “I’m downstairs, Habibi,” said a very tired-sounding Amir. “Please come down and unlock the door.”