He'd stood on the street outside her house, leaning on a cane,
beside the blue Benz with the Herat license plates and the white stripe bisecting the roof, the hood, and trunk.
He'd stood there for hours, waiting for her, now and then calling her name, just as she had once called his name outside his house.
Mariam had parted the curtain once, just a bit, and caught a glimpse of him.
Only a glimpse, but long enough to see that his hair had turned fluffy white, and that he'd started to stoop.
He wore glasses, a red tie, as always, and the usual white handkerchief triangle in his breast pocket.
Most striking, he was thinner, much thinner, than she remembered,
the coat of his dark brown suit drooping over his shoulders, the trousers pooling at his ankles.
Jalil had seen her too, if only for a moment. Their eyes had met briefly through a part in the curtains,
as they had met many years earlier through a part in another pair of curtains.
But then Mariam had quickly closed the curtains. She had sat on the bed, waited for him to leave.
She thought now of the letter Jalil had finally left at her door.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색