One More Sunday

Malik arrived with groceries and an excuse about a nearby appointment. His mother unpacked the bag, found three kinds of biscuits and asked how long the appointment would take.

There was no appointment. He had realized that they spoke regularly but never stayed on the phone long enough to say anything beyond updates. He did not know how to explain that he wanted something else.

They watched a cooking program and criticized the amount of butter. She showed him a leaking tap. He promised to call someone who knew how to fix it rather than pretending he could.

When he left, she asked whether he would come the following Sunday. Malik checked his calendar as though the answer had not already become obvious.