He drank the rest of this water and extended the glass to Mariam. “If it's not too much zahmat.”
Mariam took the glass and went to fill it. “Needless to say, I should have listened to her.”
She's always been the more sensible one, God give her a long life.
By the time I made it to the hospital, I was burning with a fever and shaking like a beid tree in the wind.
I could barely stand. The doctor said I had blood poisoning. She said two or three more days and I would have made my wife a widow.
They put me in a special unit, reserved for really sick people, I suppose. Oh, tashakor.
He took the glass from Mariam and from his coat pocket produced a large white pill.
“The size of these things.” Laila watched him swallow his pill. She was aware that her breathing had quickened.
Her legs felt heavy, as though weights had been tethered to them. She told herself that he wasn't done, that he hadn't told her anything as yet.
But he would go on in a second, and she resisted an urge to get up and leave, leave before he told her things she didn't want to hear.
Abdul Sharif set his glass on the table. “That's where I met your friend, Mohammad Tariq Walizai.”
Laila's heart sped up. Tariq in a hospital? A special unit? For really sick people? She swallowed dry spit. Shifted on her chair.
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