When the store is empty, the shoes and the sandals and the slippers stare.
This is not a bad thing, because it is a very convivial stare.
When nobody sees you, we do.
There is nobody to see me.
Because, there is nobody. Generally.

Today there was a special deal. With every pair purchased, customers received a FREE PAIR OF WOOLEN SOCKS! This was an excellent deal, because the socks were 80% MERINO 20% COTTON WITH REINFORCED HEELS. If customers bought two pairs, which admittedly, was very difficult in these times of doom-inflation, they received the FREE PAIR OF WOOLEN SOCKS and ONE TUB OF DR FANTY’S BLISTER CREAM. Just in time for the end of days when there was so much walking in one’s everyday-potentially-ending-tomorrow’s life.

These signs were fighting for position on the door. She struggled trying to decide if the deal announcements went above the CASH AND FOOD ONLY sign or below it. It was one or the other, because there was no space to the left or the right. This was a temporary struggle, because tomorrow the deal announcements would come down. Wednesdays and Thursdays were deal days, because customers needed just that little something extra to push them through the rest of the week. Especially these days with blisters. Boot blisters are great help in times of trial because they remind you which way is up.

The last customer had been very difficult. He came in with many weapons and pulled off all the shoes and sandals and slippers off the racks, and he didn’t at all care about the deals, or the seamfree heels in the socks, and he just shouted unpleasant things like give me all your food and your money or I will!!! I really will!! It didn’t make any sense because this was HIBBA’S PREMIUM SHOE STORE and not a grocery store or a bank where you get those sorts of things. I tried to tell him this, and he didn’t seem to hear me, which was quite unfortunate because it must be terrible to be so young and have hearing problems. He even went behind the counter which is FOR EMPLOYEES ONLY, which made me quite upset, but then he opened the cash register and found only the drawing of me and my cat from the last customer and then he just cried and cried and cried and said he was sorry and that I looked like his mother and she must be so upset with him and would I please forgive him please please oh things are so sad.

And of course I did because the shoes and the sandals and slippers were staring at me and he reminded me of my son who is no longer here and I think about him a lot and all the other people who are also no longer here because the world is so empty now and there are no longer any real customers and nobody sees me all the time and please please oh all the things are so sad and sometimes every day every day every day I can’t go on.

But that was the last customer, and as Mehran always said, the next customer provides a moment to reset. Mehran was a very good man. He was my moment to reset. But like nearly everybody else in the universe, he is also gone. We were a good team, he and I. I ran the shoe store and he wrote ads. The really good ones! The ones where the words did the talking and there was no need for ladies in immodest situations and gentlemen driving fast cars. I keep the good ones around for reading in slow times at the store. A lot of his best work was towards the end, I thought. He disagreed and said that the brain fog was troublesome and did you know that it is difficult to paint with one eye? Yes, it’s true. Sometimes I had to go back and redo things once he’d gone to sleep. He didn’t notice, poor thing. But at least I captured the intent and the words. He was very intelligent. He went to school till the eighth grade, but thankfully that didn’t stop him from being so clever with things.

30% SPECIAL MASSAGE FOR BOOT CONDITION. ITALY TRAINED EXPERT.

This was a good one. I always pictured these massage sessions where ordinary citizens would ask the expert why they were dumb enough to come back. ‘Italy trained’ meant one of ours, not one of Italy’s. Why would Italy send us one of their valuable people?

HALAAL GRIP-WORTHY LADDERS WITH RAPID FITTING.
That one could have been better with the words, but I kept it because this was for my nephew’s business and he could only afford this many words. His business failed. Mehran said it was to do with the office building getting washed away in the floods. It was quite sad because the office building had my nephew in it at the same time and we missed him a lot because he was one of the good ones. The others were total waste men.
My favorite one was the last one he did.

Missing? Foreign? Drowned? Aunty Urooj recommends jinn consultation. First ten minutes free.

Personally, I don’t think they worked. Mehran went to a lot of them. Aunty Urooj gave him a discount because he helped her get so many customers. But her jinn never found my Naima. I think it is because she didn’t want to be found and the jinn respected that. I missed her a lot because she was of me and Mehran and when I looked into her eyes I felt happy and calm and proud. But sometimes when one is happy and calm and proud about someone or something, the Great God Above takes it away and watches what you do and takes notes for the meeting with you on the Last Day.

Mehran missed her a lot also, but because he was a man and our culture is very hard on men, he never talked about it to me, just held me when I had to cry and wail about, and paid money for jinn to look for her. I think he died because his heart could not be sad any more and maybe he thought she was dead and he could meet her in heaven. I hope they are both there in a nice garden waiting for me.

I wait for customers outside the shop. On days with deals I sit with tea because old people look welcoming with tea cups in their hands. In the before times, I used to watch people, and it was lovely because Pakistani women have laughing eyes and wear lovely clothes and Pakistani men have mysterious eyes and wear serious mustaches. Now there are very few people, so I have to watch the desert and the city fight each other.

Just between you and me, the city is losing very badly. You can barely see Margalla Road anymore and it used to be so grand you wouldn’t believe.

I set my cup carefully on the crochet doily my mother made for me. I put my feet up on the foot stool made from a stuffed oil tin. I move my braid so it won’t get tangled in the fraying wicker of the chair.
I wait.

Waiting is quite lovely. It suggests that things are soon to happen and that you are ready. It had been like this the day everything finally tipped over and the world came to an end.

It had been happening for a while. People were leaving. Other people were dying. Some other people had decided to kill some other people to save the other people from dying. It didn’t really work, because that has never really worked, but some people learn slowly or not at all but then they all died too or disappeared into big boxes under the soil where they thought they were safe. But then some people found out and got quite angry and it’s very easy to kill people hiding in the ground in big boxes they thought were safe.

I remember having my tea on a Wednesday and watching big big big trucks go by and I remember thinking that the last government people past the mountains finally got the food and the office things they wanted and now they can help out the rest of us. But then when my tea was almost finished and I had folded away the tissue for the biscuit, there was a very big explosion like the one from when Naima was four and then nothing ever came down the road again and then one customer said that the last stronghold was done and the record for humanity had been reset and that Things were Over. It was quite sweet of him to think of it as humanity since many people from the rest of the world didn’t even think of us as people. But he was right in that Things were Over. Some things, but these things were quite important.

Everything was quiet for a bit.There were barely any customers. Sometimes people going very fast would stop and ask for directions. Sometimes they would wave sharp things at me and ask for money, but I didn’t have any. I only had my gold bangles, which I kept hidden under pretend bandages because Mehran’s mother gave me three and Mehran gave me the other three ten years after that and I loved them so much. Also my arthritis meant that I couldn’t take them off any more without cutting them off and that would really harm the design.

I also have my nail cutter from a long time ago. It’s a very good one with a small knife attached to it. It’s good to have in case people decide to Steal the Merchandise or Disrupt the Premises. It also has sentimental value. I did not know what this means because they are words that Naima used, but then she explained things and I understand now. I remember so clearly one memory with Naima and the nail cutter. I was teaching her to cut her toenails. It is a very important time in a girl’s life, especially as she begins to wear beautiful things and notices that people of the male persuasion start to notice her.

I had dropped into a squat on this very spot. My joints cracked like whips. She sat down and watched very carefully with those big big eyes like her father’s. I showed her how to work with the angle of the clipper and how to still get some use out of the old file. I told her what my mother had told me.
“For a good life, have nicely cut toenails, keep your feet clean, and don’t wear nail polish the color of blood or the night sky.”
She nodded very seriously and did hers. I kept a very sharp eye because she was still so little. She did a good job because she had her father’s dextrous fingers and careful eye to detail.

She did have a good life, until she didn’t. I think this is how things go for everyone. You have a good life until you don’t. Sometimes the Great God Above has other plans and gives you a second or a third or a fourth chance.

I think He gave this part of the world our one millionth chance. There weren’t that many of us left, but those that were, were trying. Some of them. I was trying by keeping my shop and doing the best job I can in these circumstances. My shop was well done, the merchandize was in good form, I kept up with the deals so the people had certainty in their life, and I dusted and mopped every second day now instead of once a week.

The end of the world is quite dusty as it turns out. I know it’s not the end of the world, because I am still here and I still have my shoe shop and I can still look through old photos in the night time, but it is good to call it the end of the world because that is what everyone calls it and sometimes that paper with the news and happenings calls it this. I have difficulty reading it because Mehran and Naima were the readers in the family and when there are many many many words close together in a small space I get very upset and worry more about the words feeling cramped and trapped and less about what they are trying to tell me. The best reading is Mehran’s ads and Naima’s little notes to me. I will tell you about those in a bit when I go back inside. Right now I am outside and it’s the time for the outside thoughts. I like to keep things organized like this because when things are frightening, it is good to organize them. Many things are frightening when you are old and alone and your two most favorite people in the world have left you even when it wasn’t their fault and they probably didn’t want to, but it’s sort of okay because the Great God Above is always with you and that’s one good certainty to have when there is no other certainty to have. So few things are certain when you are seventy and have a shoe shop when not many people want to buy shoes and they only want to buy hope and love and hugs with those they love but are dead.

On that board there, I keep some reviews and quotes from customers. We were reviewed by a local person once on their account on their mobile phone and we got many customers because of it. I don’t understand it very well but Naima says it was like a photo book on the phone that everyone with a phone can see and because this local person was so famous for something they once said to a politician, that everyone trusts them. I remember this customer very well. She had come into the store and she had smelled like comfortable things and a life without difficulty and she had bought three shoes even though there was no deal that day. One of the shoes did not look very good on her and I told her this because it is important to tell the truth even if you lose money. She said it was okay because the shoes would match this new bag she had gotten. She then moved her phone this way and that way and made many faces. Naima said this was taking photos and that this was good for the business. But Naima made the girl remove some photos of me and her father from it. She said it was good to balance things that were good for the business with something called Data Privacy.

The review she did that brought so many return customers was this: Such a cute and quaint shop with wonderful handmade khussas and western shoes!!!   I found exactly what I wanted and the owners are so boss and real. #AichaRecommends #LoveIslamabad
I do not know what the little squares mean, but I like how it all looks printed out.

The khussas and the western sandals are wonderful and they are handmade and I think we are boss and real? Naima laughed and laughed and took a picture of me with her sunglasses so I could really be boss.

Another review takes note of the design and the colors. I am very proud of that one. The color on the review photo have faded with the sun and the dust but I still remember how it looked then. It had been the special deal day for Eid. Mehran had repainted the whole store as a surprise and put in new shelves. Where he got the money I don’t know. Where he got the paint, I do know, because it was from cousin Faraz and his wife cannot keep anything secret. I am so glad I still remember things. But don’t take this to mean that I am not glad for the photos. The photos are wonderful reminders, but really, one does not need photos to remember things that are loved.

The final review was from a magazine that talked about something called meditation. Young people and people from other countries said this was a very important thing. They said it was very important to be aware of the present. What fun! This meant that there were people in the world who did things other than being present in the present. Mehran always said that such people thought differently, and that there was nothing we could do about it except be aware of it and stay a polite distance away in case it was contagious. Contagious like the flu and the corona flu which I caught once and I was sick sick sick and couldn’t smell anything and when I went to pray I couldn’t get up and Naima had to help me and she borrowed money to buy me special air and I felt so guilty because she should worrying about money for a nice wedding to a nice boy and not buying air for an old woman’s lungs. That air had tasted of old metal binders and dead things from cold places. But I was alive so thanks to the Great God who kept me alive for something.

The sky was getting darker and it was time to close up shop and go inside. All the birds stopped and the insects started and the mad people came out. So all the good people went inside and locked and bolted and boarded and prayed and hoped that they had done a good enough job so that if they had to stand in front of God they could say that even on their last day and their last night they had tried very hard and had been good enough people because the best people are so few and they weren’t of them and they were sorry.

In the darkness, just before the mad people came out, one could hear the water on the south end of the once-city. The water had crept up and up and up and now lived companionably with the scorched rocks and the city-parts. It was full of bad things and hid worse things. The slow flooding had brought some more business for Mehran.
Kareem brings sand bags to your door! Summer discount available.

Kareem had indeed brought many many sandbags to many many doors. Families in that part of the city had come together to build flood-proof barricades. Tall, pale men had come from other countries and looked hard at the water and the barricades and said important things to important people. They had all left, but the water had stayed. The sandbags and barricades were deep in there somewhere. The Javeds, Khannas, Zayns, and Hassans had moved west. Mrs Zafar had moved out of her house into the Khannas with their blessing. She died of loneliness. Sisters Baila and Hajra divided their time between this house and their brother’s in the cantonment. They used a boat. Laala Baksh had stayed for a few months after his sons Salman and Ghaffar had apparently gone missing. Salman and Ghaffar had loved Naima. But Naima had the far away look in her eyes and she was never going to stay. I had liked them. They were nice boys. But girls don’t listen to their mothers when she tells them about nice boys.
Aunty Urooj recommends jinn consultation.
She wasn’t sure what the jinns had told him, but Laala Baksh had drowned himself. She and Mehran had gone to the funeral and prayed that Salman and Ghaffar would stay missing. Imagine coming back and finding out that your father had given up on you.

I threw away the tea. It wasn’t really tea anyway, so I didn’t feel too bad about the waste. It was a service because there were some weeds growing in the place she always tossed it. Living things were a good thing. There hadn’t been any tea in a very long time. I remembered how it tasted and smelled and how it felt once it had been drunk. Mehran made the best tea. He always crushed the cardamom in his hands and seemed to magically know when I needed tea the most. So there was no longer any real tea because very few things grew in this land which was scorched and flooded and salty all at the same time. Thankfully, I had lots of mint. The mint grew like it had been waiting all this time for this mad time with the metal earth and the angry sun and the freezing nights. Mint tea is for the night time, because one heals at night. This is the way of God Above and who am I to argue with this?

The store is cool in the darkness. The shoes still stare, but the darkness is an effective eyelid.
The store is cool because Mehran used the old ways of insulating against heat. His village had known heat for many years before the downfall began. All that new technology and shiny things that the once-city people had? All gone. Mehran and me laboring with special plants and special muds and baked sheets of clay and dried grasses? Still keeping me cool under the sun and comfortable under the moon.
There is a low chirp.
This is unusual because night time is quiet now because all the insects are dead.

I stop and listen. In old age, old bones make noise.
There it is again.
It is the sound of lost things.

Which is very appropriate because it is the sound of a shoe wrenched apart from its companion.
Many years ago, Naima signed us up with people who had invented these clever little things that can be put on belongings that help people find them if they get lost. It was always unclear if it was to help find the things that got lost or the people that got lost.

So, one afternoon, Naima and her father sat down and put these little clever things in each shoe in our whole inventory. I remember it perfectly. Both of them crouched on the floor in the one bright spot in front of the window, laboriously inserting sinister metal things between leather and embroidery. I kept bringing them tea and food. The arthritis had already begun digging its roots in my hands by then.
The deal announcement had gone up. SPRING KHUSSAS WITH TRACKING TAGS NOW AVAILABLE! 20% OFF WITH FREE APP DOWNLOAD!
I did not notice if the sales went up because of this or because the new woman hired to do the embroidery had great skill with the needle.

And now it seemed that one shoe had gotten lost. But how? I had only sold whole pairs. And I had put everything back after that one disruptive customer. I would have noticed if he had gone walkabout with only one shoe and not the other.

Maybe this necessitated a few minutes of light. The rechargeable sun lamp behind the counter only came out for special occasions. Usually things like injuries in the night or following a sugar cube that had tumbled behind a chair leg. The light was so so bright for old old eyes.
The inventory seemed to cower and blink in the lamp’s cold light. Pairs together. Pairs together. Pairs together.
Another chirp.

So lost and alone.
There! He was on the shelf, which made things even more mysterious. He was by himself. I remember this pair. Shahzore by Mira (Mira’s real name was Samira, but Samira wouldn’t fit on the label, and for some they decided to cut her name instead of choose a different one for the shoe). One for the men, with very elegant embroidery on the edges and silver wiring. Usually men bought things like this for weddings, to be never worn again. But this was an elegant one that could be brought out again for Eids and special occasions when they noticed that their wives didn’t see them as handsome and well-put-together as they once had.

How could Shahzore by Mira be by itself? I could’ve sworn he was in a pair as he should have been. I was good at my work. I had checked the shop in the morning and for lunch time. I would’ve heard the chirping of the device, and even these old eyes would’ve noticed the gap in the shelf.

I turned off the lamp and put it away. Now think. What to do?
Could it be that I had sold the Shahzore by Mira and forgotten to give the customer the second pair?
The purchase registry said this was not true. And that I haven’t sold anything in a long time. That last pair had been Henna by Hina to a woman called Kiran. I think she had lied to me about her name. This was okay because names are very important and can’t just be given to anyone.
The chirping had continued while I had been looking at the registry.

I picked up the Shahzore by Mira. So well done. Samira was so good at her job. I wondered if she was still alive. She had the most adorable son. He had been in primary school. Naima had taught him math once. Over there on the patio. I had hoped he would grow up to be an engineer.
Naima had said his math was not very good and he’d probably be a good manager for a mid-tier firm. This was also okay and his mother would be happy.

The shoe chirped at me again. The sound was much sadder from up close. I realized I hadn’t ever heard it since the company people had done the testing with us. Of course I wouldn’t, because every time we sold a pair, both shoes left the store together. None of our shoes or any other belongings had the devices. I still had the old shoes I got for my dowry. My elder sister had made these herself and told me I would die before the shoes fell apart. She had been correct. She had fallen apart and also died when Naima was six.
But now to solve Shahzore by Mira.

I took it to my room. The rooms at the back are very quiet. Dead family members become memories that soak up all the sound and one must be respectful around them. I hoped Shahzore by Mira would stop talking now. He knew I had noticed and surely that would calm him down.

Chirp.

Of course not. Shahzore by Mira was a man after all and men need a lot more to comfort them than assurance that you are there for them. I put him down on the table. Maybe the scent of drying mint would help. The table still had the paperwork that Mehran had been doing just before he couldn’t do things any more. Shahzore by Mira held down the curling edge of a tax document that I could barely understand.
I seem to remember that Naima had told me about a paper that could help fix some of the common problems with the devices. If it was the same kind of paper like the one on the cash register and the air cooler, it would be in that green file. Hopefully it had a picture on it.
The papers were so so dry and crackling. Or maybe the sound was so loud because there was so little sound. I could hear my own breath whistling through my dry nose and rattling through dying lungs.

There was no breeze to rustle the mint leaves or the old old curtains. And the insects were still dead.
There. A small pamphlet with a big picture of the metal device. And some words written on it in very technical language. A date and the name of the person we had spoken to in Mehran’s handwriting. It was very strange to see his handwriting in small words instead of the big sheets with the deals.

I looked through it slowly. There was information on how to put them in things. Apparently people used them for keys and phones the most. There was information on when to replace them. This was something we had never done because once bought, they became the customer’s responsibility. I remember Naima saying that the power in them would run out in a few months. The one in Shahzore by Mira should have died many years ago then. But maybe power is like old people, where it keeps going even when everyone around you expects you to die. Like me.

I didn’t understand most of the information, but it seemed that the only way to get the sound to stop was to bring the device close to its lost partner, or CALL NOW OR USE THE APP FOR LIVE SUPPORT. Well now. I didn’t have a phone since Mr Ali from next door had ripped up the whole street’s cabling in his anger with the government. And I had never used these app things. That’s what children and clever husbands are for. And if I had one, there would be no point because there was nobody to talk to and power was so so scarce and I couldn’t see bright things very well.
But Shahzore by Mira had to be helped. He was alone now and no matter what trickery had led to this point, things, like people, should not be alone.
I sat and thought.

There is no real rush.
What does one do in times of difficulty?
Good good.
I prayed to the God Above to help me in this. And then I put on my Outside Shoes. And my good hair covering for the outside. I put Shahzore by Mira in my bag. An old present from Naima. Silly girl. One does not get presents for mothers. I kept it anyway and felt a secret thrill of delight every time I used it, which was every time, because I did not have other bags.

I locked the store behind me and left for the first time since everything ended and the world was quiet. This was not scary because God was with me and I had asked Him for help, so this was okay. Mehran would also be okay with it because I was going for a task and I knew where to go and I would not get lost and nobody wants to hurt really old people.

Aunty Urooj lived quite close. I had been really glad for this because at least Mehran hadn’t been going very far when he stopped driving but still needed to consult with the jinn. I told him so many times not to go because if Naima had come back and found out what her father had been doing, she would have been embarrassed and it is not good for children to find their parents embarrassing.

In the night time, everything was the color of old brass cookware. The sky was the color of fired earth. The ground was patchy red. The last stubborn remains of roads and pavements persisting through the dirt. The last few buildings had ragged edges and great eyeholes. Mr Ali’s shop was gone completely. Fire will do that. Maulvi Yasir’s tailoring shop was mostly intact. But there was a dark pit in there that looked at you in an oily way. Mehran said it was the remains of an old water tank. Aunty Urooj was just past the bakery, in the bookstore. The bookstore gave her a discount on that table because sometimes the customers remained and bought books and pens and little notebooks that they would never use.
Dust settled on me as I walked. I could feel the gravel underfoot through my thin shoes. My eyes and nose were drying out. The end of the world is so dry, it is not good for your skin. If I had been young, I would have covered my face to protect it. Dryness gives rise to wrinkles and nobody likes them. Old people don’t either, but we are not allowed to complain about it.

Something shifted underfoot near Maulvi Yasir’s shop. Maybe a piece of the road? It’s okay. Let’s go.
There were noises from the bakery. It sounded like those wild young people who occasionally went through the area looking for people to hurt and food to eat. I walked a bit faster. I was a person who could get hurt, but I didn’t have time, because I had to help this shoe.

The bookstore was dark. It was empty. Empty bookstores are sad. It suggests that all knowledge has left the stage. I walked through. There was some difficulty going past overturned tables and shelves and broken glass. The glass was getting smooth and less dangerous. It was like that shiny blue piece Naima had brought back from the seashore in the south and called sea glass. I picked up one of these and put it in my bag to show her when she came back. Children always come back, you know?

Aunty Urooj’s table was just past the serious magazines. The light magazines had been at the front with women wearing immodest clothing and selling unlikely things like houses and large umbrellas. The serious magazines had more words on them and I think nobody bought them, but just stood next to them waiting for their turn with the jinn.

The table was empty. She wasn’t there. Even the table cloth was gone and her chair was overturned. But the one for clients was not. I sat down.

Shahzore by Mira chirped. He seemed louder here.
What now? I waited. Maybe she had just stepped away to do Lady’s Business in the bathroom and was just coming back.
I waited a long time.

Maybe her jinn were here? I explained the situation out loud, hoping they would hear. I didn’t have too much hope in this because they never seemed to have listened to Mehran, who is a much better person.

There was silence once I finished. I put Shahzore by Mira on the table. Maybe the jinns needed to see the real client. I put some money on the table as well. I was entitled to a discount, but who knows in these dark times.
Amma, go home.
That was Naima. I looked around. I was alone. It was her. She sounded like she did the last time I saw her. I could not see her but I did hear her. My ears are old, but not for family.

I explained to her that I had to find the second Shahzore by Mira, because I knew how it felt because I wanted to find Mehran and her because my heart chirped for both of them all the time and it was so so sad. And then I told her everything she might have missed. After she had gone, the things had gotten worse and the waters rose on one end, and the rains stopped on the other end, and the angry people fought and fought with their expensive weapons and their loyal people, but we were okay. We were okay because people always need shoes and socks. We were okay because and I am still waiting for you dear heart and so was your father until the very end and he didn’t stop believing it even if his heart broke a little bit and wondered if you missed us.

Amma, go home. Trust me.

Well then, things didn’t get more clear than that. She did not say what to do with Shahzore by Mira though. I left the money on the table, but took him with me. Hopefully the jinn had heard me and were out looking for the second one already. Jinn wouldn’t be hampered by the difficulties in the human world.

I left the store. I checked for the piece of polished glass. I told the empty store and Naima that I had something for her when she came back. I would need to get more food. Young things eat a lot more than old things. Surely, Naima was coming home, if she wanted me to go back. Maybe she was already there! And her old silly mother had closed the store and left.

I walked faster. Not too fast, because that would be immodest.

There, the store! It looked lonely by itself. But it was standing. Thanks to the God Above for giving me shelter at this time. The tailoring store looked worse from this side.

Just like the end of the world isn’t a single, defined time, the end of a person isn’t either. I think Mehran’s end started the day Naima was gone. I had walked over the same piece of pavement that had shifted under me on the way to the store. I think that the water tank under Maulvi Yasir’s store was much bigger than I had thought. Honestly, I hadn’t thought. I just knew to follow Mehran’s guidance and avoid the store because the man’s employees were cheats and always sold you less cloth and got your measurements wrong.

Under my weight, and the seepage from years of leaking water, and maybe just convenience for the story from the Great Author Above, I fell through. It wasn’t at all in slow motion, and it wasn’t at all elegant. If this were the movies that Naima wateched, this wouldn’t be a story that would be retold to anyone. And not just because I’d be dead. At one moment I had been looking ahead to my store. Trying to make out if someone was standing at the door.

And the next, I was lying on my back looking up at the red sky.

My chest feels hot. Water has soaked my Good Dupatta and my hair. There was a dead crow on my left. I could see him a little in the light of the night sky. It had been here a while. His feathers were curling and gray and one of his eyes was gone. There were no insects, because they are all dead. Something cracked in my neck. I looked up into the ragged hole my fall had punched through the tank. There was nothing in the night sky. Maybe the stars were behind all the dust created by the end of the world? Or maybe the God Above had picked up the stars and put them away because the people here did not deserve to see any now.

(Missing, foreign, or drowned?)
She could really use the jinn right now.

Shahzore by Mira chirped. It sounded even more sad. Like Mehran when he would come back from Aunty Urooj. I felt around for it in my bag. The water sloshing was so loud! Maybe those wild young things at the bakery would hear and come out. I had the shoe. It was important to move it out of the water, or the leather would stain. Even KHAN’S LEATHER RESTORER wouldn’t help it then. I moved with the effort of shifting the shoe out of my bag. Something caved in the back of my head and I sank further into the water. Water licked my left eye.

The polished glass! I could not feel it in my bag. It had fallen out in the fall maybe. Or maybe it was inside the shoe.

Amma, where are you? There is nobody at the store. I am so thirsty.
Was that water in my eyes?

I called out to her, telling her I was on my way. I told her to be patient because her mother was old now and old people can move slower than they want. I tried to lever myself up. My head came away from the bottom with liquid heat. I was sitting up. It is important to pause a bit when you sit up because otherwise you might feel dizzy. Naima used to laugh at me when I did this and said Amma was on pause. Hurry up hurry up hurry up Naima is waiting move faster right now right now.

Dear heart, why are you out so late? It is not safe after sunset.
Mehran? This was very strange. He was very definitely not here. He was in plot 6c in the ground, hopefully in good conversations with other kind people, waiting for the Final Day when he would intercede for her with God and they could all go to heaven in their nice house.

(Missing, foreign, or drowned?)

I explained to him the situation and tried to lift Shahzore by Mira to show him. My right arm disagreed and stayed where it was. Everything was getting muddy. It must be the dark water that had gotten in my eyes. It is okay, there are eye drops next to my bed that help with dryness. They sit next to my kajal that make my eyes look so big and luminous and pretty but Mehran says that they are pretty anyway but he has to say that but I love him for it because he is so kind and sometimes the truth of these things does not matter.

I must get up, why wasn’t my body listening to me? Mehran and Naima are at the store and I am not and I have to make them food and give them clean clothes and tell them what’s been happening and maybe we will pray together and Naima will help me clean my Good Dupatta and her father will finally relax and I can tell them that I want those clever things out of my inventory because Shahzore by Mira has given me such trouble even though I feel for the poor thing.

Amma, come home. I am here. Where are you?

I am coming! I am coming! Sit on my chair and put up your feet, but not if your father is there because then you should sit him down because he is old and his knees are not very good even though I put the medicine on them every night even on the last night, and I am coming and wait for me and don’t be angry at your old silly mother who wanted to reunite Shahzore by Mira and she has missed you both so much even though she knew that children always come home.

I must tell her to look at the ad and get the ad because then she can find me if her father can’t walk that well but the ad is in the store and they are outside and my head hurts and my chest is hot and my heart is doing the fluttering thing that is not the good kind and I can’t see properly but she will be able to read and see it and know that maybe the jinn can help if the Great God Above wants it and Naima will have missed that Aunty Urooj recommends

—- The End —