[Whirlpool, Hedayat, S.]
Tuesday, 31 May 2011
Homayoun was sitting in front of the gas heater together with his young wife and their little daughter, Homa. They were in the family room but unlike the past, when laughter and happiness and laughter ruled in this room on Fridays, today they were all sad and silent. Even their little daughter who usually livened things up looked dull and gloomy today. She had a plaster-made doll next to her - the doll had a broken face - and was staring outside. It was as if she too was sensing that something was wrong, and the thing that was wrong was the fact that Uncle Bahram had failed to come to see them as was his habit. She was also feeling that her parents' sadness was on his account: the black clothes, the eyes red-rimmed from the lack of sleep, and the cigarette smoke which waved in the air all reinforced this suspicion.