Claire felt the cold anxious prickle spread through her as Anwar’s taunting tirade continued, delaying the revelation of her fate. She hated watching him but dreaded the conclusion and the promise of more damaging footage to follow. In the end her jangling nerves got the better of her and she reached to fast-forward to her fate. Her hand froze on the button and an electric tingle shot through her whole body as she heard Mr Anwar clearly declare amongst the sea of indistinguishable parlance one simple, magical English word: ‘passports’. Almost as soon as his utterance had registered, the screen blanked once more.
When the screen lit up again, Claire found herself looking at an empty but recognisable living room. The large yellow sofa was the most identifiable feature. The last time she had
