The ghosts of the past visit us when we least expect them. As Asad puts the teapot on the stove for his chai this morning, he has no idea of the shadow lurking outside his apartment. He pulls aside the small curtain of his kitchen window and looks out to check the weather. The fog has thickened overnight and only a fluorescent yellow glow can be seen from across the street. He cranes his neck to get a better look at the source of the light. It does not appear to be the headlight of a vehicle. Nor does it shine high enough to be a street lamp. Blinding December foghe thinks to himself and lets the curtain fall back.
It’s been over a week since the sun last shone.
He peels a piece of ginger and crushes it in a mortar until the juice oozes out. Using the pestle, he pours the crushed ginger into the teapot. He lets the chai simmer on a low flame while he prepares to call it a day.