8th March 2010
“Nobody cared,” Yazid mumbled, shutting their flat door behind the unnecessarily chatty removal man and thanking Christ they didn’t have much stuff to move. If he heard one more thing about the guy’s new puppy he was going to scream.
Then the irritation ebbed. Because—yeah. Their flat door.
Ali was standing in the middle of the room—and it was just a room, a tiny studio flat barely bigger than Yazid’s old one, but about a million times cleaner and newer—with the biggest grin that Yazid had ever seen, one of the throws he’d brought from his old place clutched to his chest. He was turning in very slow circles, staring at the bare walls and naked floors with a rapturous look on his face. Yazid found himself leaning against the front door and simply staring.
They had no real
