…
Late
in the afternoon, Auntie Zeliha stepped outside into the garden. Not
wanting to enter the house, Aram had been waiting there for hours,
having long since finished smoking all his cigars.
"I
brought you tea," she said. The spring breeze caressed their
faces, carrying from far and wide the sundry smells of the sea,
growing grass, and the yet-to-blossom almond flowers of Istanbul.
"Thank
you, my love," Aram replied. ""What a lovely tea
glass."
"Do
you like it?" Auntie Zeliha rotated the tea glass in her hand as
her face brightened with recognition. "This is so bizarre. You
know what I've realized just now? I bought this set twenty years ago.
So strange!"
"What
is so strange?" Aram asked, feeling at that moment a drop of
rain.
"Nothing,"
Auntie Zeliha said, her voice lowering. "It's just that I never
believed they could survive this long. I always feared they would
break so easily, but I guess they live to tell the tale, after all.
Even tea glasses do!"
Elif Shafak, The bastard of Istanbul
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