“Where are you from?” Noor, a young girl—perhaps in her late teens asked me. Noor Khan, like Zainab, had told me was Zainab’s Personal Assistant. Fair complexion, an oval face, plump lips, ocean blue eyes and a slender figure cladded in the signature HR uniform; Noor was gorgeous and friendly, contrary to the professional company she tolerates throughout the whole day.
“India.” I answered in a monosyllable. I couldn’t hide the exhaustion from my voice any longer. The night in the cell had given me little to no rest. Moreover, all the running, hurrying, interviews, interrogations, and interactions didn’t help much. Thereby, by the afternoon, I had lost both the heart and energy to make or maintain a conversation.
Annoyingly, any I met had something or another to ask me. The mor
