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I wake up to the alarm on my phone. It's noon, and I need to eat before taking my medication. I brew coffee and let it sit while I take a shower. This time, I keep the flame low and stand over it, but then Mom calls, planning my sister's birthday. I say I'm busy; she insists she'll pick me up. I pop a few dried mulberries into my mouth. I draw the curtains, and the sunlight floods my face. I unplug my phone from the charger, it beeps again. I style my damp hair and sing "fikrinden geceler yata bilmirem" in front of the mirror. I remember humming it by the fire in Fuman while you grilled fish, and you said you loved my voice. Just as I am about to tear up, Saba video calls. I ignore it. I pour the over-brewed coffee into a cup and sip it patiently in the sunlight. I take a package of Fesenjun from the freezer and soak some rice. I change my mind, put out a pack of chicken instead, and wash a few mushrooms, realising I don’t have cream. I put the fillet back and my eyes land on some cherry ice cream. I tie up my still-wet hair, apply a quick dash of red lipstick, and call Saba back. The gang is making pizza, she says. Come over, everyone’s here. I say I’m busy. She insists she’ll pick me up. I toss yesterday's lunch to the birds and text Mom not to come. I gulp down the misshapen ice cream and take my pill. I drop some ice into a beer and settle down to watch the first episode of a series I’ve been meaning to watch for years. Hours pass, and I get up with a stiff neck. I use the last grapefruit to make a mask; its scent fills the house. I play "Rising" by Lhasa and dance with you in my mind. later at dark, I pick up my phone and post the photo Saba sent to my single-member Close Friends list. I put on my floral dress and order a ride. All the way, I draft a list of household items to sell. I text the landlord that I need to move out earlier than planned. I arrive at the party, amidst the balloon play, as my sister blows out her 40th birthday candles. I imagine my new home, where everything is in its place except YOU.

a home when feeling lonely single woman
a home when feeling lonely single woman
a home when feeling lonely single woman
a home when feeling lonely single woman
a home when feeling lonely single woman
a home when feeling lonely single woman

© 2024 Farzaneh Ghadyanloo Contemporary Artist

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