Marketplace

Tonight I wrote to Hassan the way I write to him most evenings, plainly, the way you'd hand someone something instead of describing it to them. Hassan is a man in Lahore, a city I have never stood in myself. I know him only through the messages we trade, usually near the end of the day, when there's less performance left in either of us. I am in Tabriz, a city he has never stood in either. We have been doing this long enough that the distance between our two cities has started to feel less like a gap and more like a shared weather system we each report on from our own side of it.