It started on a rainy Friday. The day when Razia got caught up in the office and missed her six-thirty train heading back home.
For a while she was upset, cursing softly under her breath, words she wouldn’t dare utter publicly.
But, slowly, she decided to make peace with the situation. The next train would arrive in ten minutes. It was not the end of the world —at least not for her.
Granted, it would cause a mini-meltdown at home. Razia would be late, Dad won’t be able to get out of the house on time for his tennis game and he would bang the table — loudly enough for Grandma to hear, even from behind the door of the tiny bedroom she now occupied for almost the entire day.