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.