Zana wanted to avoid a scandal, and didn’t tell the police. Sooner or later he’d be back, she said. “His place is here near me, it always was,” she said over and over. At other moments, she’d never been upset by Halim’s wanderings; he preferred to seek comfort for his sorrows far from home. But now Christmas dinner was nearly ready, and at midnight we ate in silence. The dinner was gloomy, hardly anyone spoke, without Halim’s voice and the chatter of the friends he invited. Zana didn’t touch the food: she’d wait a little longer. “He knows this night’s important to me … He never failed to come, never …” She sat alone at the table, looking at the chair at the head, his place.