A Thousand Splendid Suns

There was a narrow, dimly lit hallway there and two bedrooms. The
door to the bigger one was ajar. Through it Mariam could see that it, like
the rest of the house, was sparsely furnished: bed in the corner, with a
brown blanket and a pillow, a closet, a dresser. The walls were bare
except for a small mirror. Rasheed closed the door.
"This is my room."
He said she could take the guest room. "I hope you don't mind. I'm
accustomed to sleeping alone."
Mariam didn't tell him how relieved she was, at least about this.
The room that was to be Mariam's was much smaller than the room
she'd stayed in at Jalil's house. It had a bed, an old, gray-brown dresser,
a small closet. The window looked into the yard and, beyond that, the
street below. Rasheed put her suitcase in a corner.
Mariam sat on the bed.
"You didn't notice," he said He was standing in the doorway, stooping a
little to fit.
"Look on the windowsill. You know what kind they are? I put them there
before leaving for Herat."
Only now Mariam saw a basket on the sill. White tuberoses spilled from
its sides.
"You like them? They please you?"