TWENTY-THREE
I knew the day would come, but I just didn’t want my mind to think about it.
It came one afternoon when I turned the stereo on in the house after a long time. Yes, my flaws do make me unique. They also make me lose people.
Ma and I were cleaning the apartment, me less industriously than her. I lifted a stack of books off the coffee table and turned around to carry them into the den when something caught my eye—the little stereo that Faizan had bought the year before the towers fell. It had cost a small fortune, but Faizan was passionate about music, and I hated to stand in his way. He said that listening to great music inspired him, formed his characters, and moved his plot along better. He loved old classical ghazals and listened for hours to Mehdi Hassan, Ghulam Ali, and
