“Never mind the sky,” Seyda snaps, “we were talking about your husband. He’s probably starving by now.” She slams the lid of the bread pot down, her nostrils flaring.
Ferida widens her eyes at Khatoun, snipping the air in front of her mouth with an imaginary pair of scissors. “Keep quiet,” she mouths. And then, out loud, “Iskender will be fine,” she tells Seyda, “If he goes hungry he’s an idiot.”
“An i***t? You think it’s funny to starve? You make jokes about your brother like he’s some i***t? What is he doing back there all alone? And what are we doing in the middle of nowhere? Not here. Not there!” Seyda gestures around her with her hands.
“We’re on our way to see family,” Khatoun says gently.
“On our way? In your mind. In my mind we’re leaving family behind.”
“Enough, Mayrig!” Feri
