Istanbul. Sometimes her family doesn’t call and writes and anything. And this day had made a record contact for the record.
Aunt Lia called about were they should meet.
Asha skulked around the grand Greek and Roman churches that became mosques.
Men in European suits and desert robes chided her going in. It’s Friday prayers. From the shoes she could just about see the walls ceilings carpets lit by hundreds of stars. Africans Turks European men kept looking, when she got her mom’s messages:
“Come home now”
One line. No end marks. It wouldn’t be listened to.
The men were called to prayer. Left her to do what she will. She would wait at the train station.