A Thousand Splendid Suns

Mariam shrugged. She didn't say to this girl that she'd once named a
pebble after her.
"Do you want to hear a song?"
Mariam shrugged again.
Niloufar plugged in the gramophone. She fished a small record from a
pouch beneath the box's lid. She put it on, lowered the needle. Music
began to play.
1 will use a flower petal for paper, And write you the sweetest letter,
You are the sultan of my heart, the sultan of my heart
"Do you know it?"
"No."
"It's from an Iranian film. I saw it at my father's cinema. Hey, do you
want to see something?"
Before Mariam could answer, Niloufar had put her palms and forehead
to the ground She pushed with her soles and then she was standing
upside down, on her head, in a three-point stance.
"Can you do that?" she said thickly.
"No."
Niloufar dropped her legs and pulled her blouse back down. "I could
teach you," she said, pushing hair from her flushed brow. "So how long
will you stay here?"