‘Perfect’ he says. ‘Your obituary will look splendid with this.’

The clicking of his camera and the squeaking sound of an opening door coincide. 

A gentle breeze is coming from my left. I love being caressed by the wind.

‘Be aware of what you say’ someone says. ‘She might hear everything.’

Footsteps are fading and nearing, but wherever I look, there is just me and the man in the park.

‘Mama, it’s me.’ I know that voice! It’s Rania’s: my daughter. 

She studied law, nevertheless she succeeded in finding herself a job that is way below her skill levels.

‘I’ve ruined everything’ she says. She sounds like a ten year old again.

Don’t you worry,  I want to say. I’m on my way to learn Dutch, but the words won’t come out. 

Then the touch of a warm hand, holding a clump of meat. It’s mine, I think. 

Something went terribly wrong between Rania and me. 

What did she say, the other day? It was very important.  

That’s right. It doesn’t make sense. If I could only find the common thread.

‘Stay with me!’ the man with the blurred face commands.

‘Why do they keep you in the dark?’ Rania asks.

Immediately after, the sun is switched on.

 

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