By Mandana Faridani
Read by Rajan Khanna
“What do you want him for?”
“Um…” Mr. Amoon recovered himself and cleared his throat. “My wife would like to have a word with him.”
“You cannot ask him about the other world.”
“I know.” Said the wife in a trembling voice. “I only need to talk to him.”
“And he has to go back, I might add.”
“I know. I know.” Said the weeping Mrs. Amoon. “Do it. I beg you.”
The young man looked at Salem’s body again.
“Of course I need not tell you that he will be in the physical condition in which he spent the last hours of his existence. And judging by the way he looks, I dare say, it is not going to be a pleasant one.”
The Amoons only nodded at him eagerly. The young man sighed.
“Very well then,” He said. “Bring me water.” And then, as if he’d just remembered an unpleasant matter, the corners of his lips twitched downward. “And close the door for heaven’s sake.””