by J. MALCOLM GARCIA
Amina kept all the flowers her husband Masood gave her over the years. She kept the first bottle of perfume, the first scarf. She believes he will be back as strongly as she believes in God. Tomorrow or the day after or next week or next month. She doesn’t know when, but someday. She must believe this to stay motivated. If she is a fool, okay, let her be a fool.
…
I sit across from lawyer Shaukat Aziz Siddiqui, who represents families of missing persons in his Rawalpindi office.
The power has shut off and he apologizes for being able to offer me only cold tea. Dust lingers from the ceiling as if contemplating its descent before finally falling in waves upon his desk. The mildewed books filling shelves on both sides of his office offer an odor suggesting sodden wisdom lost to moisture, neglect, and poverty.
Guernica for more
(Thanks to Robin Khundkar)